


the fundamentals of caring

by ImotoChan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn, also Keith is a mess, disclaimer: I hold nothing anything Stephen king, hitchhikers guide to the galaxy is a good book, hunk and pidge are fukcing good friends, hunk is best bro, keith is his caretaker, lance is also a mess, lance is bllnd, loosely based of the Netflix film with the same title, more like I watched it and thought KLANCE, pidge is also a stoner, this is a mess, this is really gay wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImotoChan/pseuds/ImotoChan
Summary: "I mean, I think a person only becomes a caretaker for one of two possible and valid reasons.""And what might those be?"Lance shrugs, "Well, either you really care for people and you want to help make the world a better place."Keith bites his lip again.(Is Lance really blind?)"Or you feel like you owe something to someone, like you've done some terrible thing and the universe hates you, and that maybe by helping people and trying to be a better person, the world will forgive you."Keith's breath stops.Lance isn't really smiling anymore."You're the latter, huh?"(In which Lance is blind and Keith wishes he was a better person.)





	the fundamentals of caring

**Author's Note:**

> oh BOY guys listen please bear with me  
> i started this fic like over a year ago and finished it six months ago but then i started college and wowo has it been crazy  
> this fic means a lot to me for so many reasons and honestly i re read it and was like "damn this seemed better six months ago" but i want to share it so here it is  
> i am no blind and i have no direct family members who are, all the information in this fic was information i found by googling so pls let me know if i was at any point incorrect about literally anything  
> anyway this fic is rlly just about keith and lance and how in love they are so i hope u enjoy it <3

Keith blinks slowly.

 

Once, twice. 

 

He's keenly aware of the fact that the man in front of him cannot see him--aware of the glazed-over look in his eyes, but somehow, Keith feels like the dim blue eyes are looking right at him, like they can understand his thoughts without speaking.

 

"Um, hello?"

 

Keith clears his throat, "Ah, sorry, sorry." Keith directs his gaze back to the file on his lap, reading over the words for the twelfth time that hour.

 

"You okay?"

 

Keith glances up, unease settling in his skin as he meets blank blue eyes again. The table that sits between them doesn't feel like a barrier at all. A glass of water that had been offered to Keith sits untouched on it.  

 

"You're not good at this," 

 

Keith frowns, but then the man chuckles softly, and Keith can't find it in himself to be mad. 

 

"Sorry," Keith huffs, shuffling around in his chair. The man across from his hasn't moved much in the last hour; his left leg is crossed over his right, hands folded in his lap. Keith notes the way his fingers tap against his thigh at an unsteady pace. 

 

"Are you sure you're certified to be a caretaker?" 

 

"Listen," Keith pauses, glancing back down at the file, ignoring the small laugh that comes from the other. He reads the name quickly, looking back up to see that the man is now smirking. 

 

" _ Lance _ ," Keith breathes out the name with a sort of vengeance, but Lance must not catch it, because he continues to laugh. 

 

"Yes?" Lance is still smirking, and the teasing tone of his voice infuriates Keith. 

 

Keith clears his throat, "As I have already stated, I will be your caretaker for the near future."

 

Lance groans, finally moving to let his head fall into his hands, "How am I supposed to live like this. You talk like a robot." 

 

Keith bites his lip, his bad habit of chewing it nervously has made the skin there rough. As much as he didn't want to do this, he was out of a job and needed a way to pay for living expenses. If Lance's dead mother's inheritance would be enough to get him through the next year or so until he could figure out what he was going to do with his life, so be it. 

 

"Sorry?" Keith offers, shrugging before realizing Lance can't see him.

 

"I thought this agency was supposed to be good at making matches with caretakers and clients."  Lance sighs, sitting back up and leaning against the chair.

 

"Well," Keith hums, "We're both in our twenties. And male."

 

Lance snorts, "Wow, those are amazing qualifications for someone who's going to have to help me piss."

 

Keith frowns, "You're blind, Lance, not immobile." 

 

Lance sticks out his tongue, "Yeah, whatever." 

 

Keith briefly wonders where Lance learned to make facial expressions, and if some expressions are just inherent that all humans know how to make them.

 

"Sorry," Keith murmurs again, diverting his gaze to the file in front of him. 

 

Lance laughs again and Keith can't discern whether it's supposed to be brittle or not. 

 

"It's okay, Mr. Kogane." 

 

Keith sighs, "Call me Keith."

 

Lance sits up straight and raises a hand to his forehead in a small salute, "Alrighty, Keith."

 

Keith falls back into his chair, taking a deep breath. In the hour he’s known him, Keith has deduced that Lance is incredibly frustrating. 

 

"I was joking, you know." Lance hums, slouching back down in his chair, "About the whole 'how am I supposed to live like this' thing."

 

"Oh?" Keith raises an eyebrows, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

 

"Yeah," Lance nods, a small smile spreading across his cheeks. "I mean, I think a person only becomes a caretaker for one of two possible and valid reasons." 

 

Keith's brows furrow, genuine curiosity settling in. "And what might those be?"

 

Lance shrugs, "Well, either you really care for people and you want to help make the world a better place." 

 

Keith bites his lip again.

 

Lance laughs.

 

(Is he really blind?)

 

"Or you feel like you owe something to someone, like you've done some terrible thing and the universe hates you, and that maybe by helping people and trying to be a better person, the world will forgive you." 

 

Keith's breath stops.

 

Lance isn't really smiling anymore.

 

"You're the latter, huh?"

 

Keith swallows nervously, clearing his throat, "Lance--" 

 

Lance shrugs, "Didn't say it was a bad thing," and doesn't hesitate in filling out the paperwork Keith had given to him, fingers slowly moving through the Braille. As he signs the papers, Keith wonders if Lance has been blind all his life.

 

Lance slides the papers over the desk and towards Keith, a small smile on his lips that makes Keith uncomfortable. 

 

Keith frowns as he flicks through the paperwork, making sure everything is in order. "Well, I guess it's settled."

 

"I look forward to working with you, Lance." Keith says, almost meaning the words. He's a little stiff as he offers a hand, and after a moment takes it back, slapping himself lightly in the face. 

 

Lance snorts, the light sound echoing through the room, "You just tried shaking my hand, didn't you?" 

 

Keith scoffs, his hand falling to his lap quietly, "Um, no?"

 

Lance shakes his head slightly, leaning forward in his chair and feeling around for the table between them. He lifts up a hand and offers it to Keith. 

 

Keith stares at it before Lance clears his throat, "Just a reminder that I am in fact blind and have no idea if my hand is actually in front of you so if I'm just trying to shake hands with empty space please let me know."

 

Keith rolls his eyes, and then extends his hand, grabbing Lance's in his, "You're good." 

 

Lance grins, giving Keith's hand a small squeeze, "You bet I am."

 

Lance's grin is bright and his hands are extremely soft and Keith finds himself praying to some higher power that everything will be okay.    

 

///

 

Keith shuffles out of Lance's home, closing the door behind him. They hadn't talked long, but according to the limited information in Lance's file, Lance required a live-in caregiver. Keith didn't get to question who took care of Lance before or even the extent to which Lance even required assistance. 

 

Lance had told him to go home and come back tomorrow with whatever he needed. Keith was grateful Shiro was putting him up for the time being, but was also relieved he could stop freeloading off of him 

 

His previous, and subsequently first, job concerned an elderly woman--named Allison--who was partially deaf and confined to a wheelchair but refused to be sent to a nursing home. She was a nice woman, and Keith enjoyed the time they spent together, even if a majority of it included her recalling the same memories and telling the same stories.

 

Keith liked how she pulled at his cheeks and instructed him on how to make lemon bars and her stories about traveling to foreign places when the world seemed like a place that wanted to be explored. 

 

Keith never liked to get attached to people or things, and a part of him regrets taking up this sort of career. Despite the ease of becoming qualified and the high pay, it was terrifying.  

 

Keith didn't realize quite how terrifying it was until one morning he woke up to find Alison in her wheelchair, looking out the big glass window in the living room. He shuffled over to her, tapped her on the shoulder, and felt himself shiver when she looked at him with a blank expression.

 

_ "Who are you?" _

 

Keith quit that job and the family put Allison in a nursing home, somewhere the workers were trained in helping patients with those sorts of terrifying diseases. 

 

It had only been two months since then and the company Keith worked through hadn't sent him any additional work, until just a week ago.

 

Keith had never known a blind person in his life, and he was incredibly insecure about his abilities to be any actual help. Shiro had insisted that it would be fine, and that if anything, it would be a good learning experience. 

 

"Until he accidentally walks into a wall or trips down the stairs or something," Keith had murmured under his breath. Shiro had smiled at him, patting his shoulder reassuringly.  

 

"It'll be okay."

 

Keith sighs as he pulls into a parking spot in the apartment's lot. He gets out of the car and shuffles inside and up the steps to Shiro's apartment. 

 

The door is unlocked and Keith steps inside, hearing the quiet hum of the television in the other room. 

 

Keith steps out of his shoes and slips off his jacket, putting it on the coat hanger besides the entrance. He walks towards the living room, nodding at Shiro before plopping down on the couch next to him. 

 

"Welcome back," Shiro lifts up the beer in his hand in greeting. He looks comfortable on the couch, head propped up on the arm, legs stretched out so his toes brush up against Keith's thighs. It made Keith happy to see him like this, after everything, he just wants Shiro to feel like he can breathe.

 

"How'd it go?"

 

Keith shrugs, "Good. I start tomorrow."

 

Shiro sits up, grinning, "Good? That's great, Keith!"

 

Keith chews at his lip, "I guess."

 

Shiro shakes his head, swinging his legs off the couch and standing. "I'm getting you a beer. To celebrate."

 

"Shiro--"

 

"You're going to be moving out tomorrow too, then, yeah? It's your last night!" Shiro insists and Keith can't say no to his brother.

 

"Fine, but I don't want that gross Bud stuff." Keith crinkles his nose and Shiro laughs.

 

"Budweiser?"

 

"Yeah, that, don't want it." Keith huffs, crossing his arms as he sinks back into the couch.

 

"It's not Budweiser, don't worry," Shiro chuckles as he walks to the kitchen to get a bottle for Keith.

 

Keith looks around the apartment, taking in the off white color of the walls, the paintings of flowers and miscellaneous landscapes hanging from nails. Keith glances down at the red cushion he's sitting on and finds himself questioning whether he was even ready to be a caretaker again, whether he was ever ready.

 

"You're thinking too much again," Shiro has returned, a small smile on his face as he sits down besides Keith. He gives Keith his drink and Keith takes it gratefully. 

 

"I just--" Keith sighs, staring down at the can in his hands, "Am I doing the right thing, Shiro?"

 

Shiro shrugs, resting a hand on Keith's shoulder, "Only you can know that, Keith."

 

Keith groans, "That's not very helpful."

 

"I can't tell you what to do, but I know you're going to be fine." Shiro gives Keith's shoulder a small squeeze before letting go.

 

Keith sighs, opening up his drink and staring at it accusingly. Shiro watches him, holding back a laugh. Keith has always been childish, but Shiro thinks it's a good aspect of his personality. Maybe Shiro thought so because Keith was his little brother, but he believed Keith was a good person, a better person than him even, despite what Keith thought of himself. 

 

"Cheers," Shiro says, smiling as he holds up his can, "To new beginnings." 

 

Keith lifts up his own can, chewing at his lips.

 

"Yeah, 

 

new beginnings."

 

///

 

Keith puts the last box into the back of his car, staring at it before closing the trunk and sighing. 

 

"Chin up, Keith," Shiro places an hand on Keith's shoulder and gives it a small squeeze, "You'll be fine." 

 

"Thanks, Shiro, for everything." Keith steps away from the car, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares at the ground, suddenly finding the shoelaces on his sneakers very interesting.

 

Keith hears Shiro laughing quietly and looks up to glare at him. Before Keith can think of a clever retort, he's being pulled into a tight hug. He snorts, bringing up his arms to hug Shiro back.

 

"I'll miss you."

 

"I'm going to be fifteen minutes away, Shiro." 

 

"Still." Shiro frowns, pulling out of the hug, "Come visit."

 

"Yeah, I will." Keith smiles slightly, "I do have a job to do, though."

 

"Bring the kid by too!" Shiro grins.

 

"He's the same age as me," Keith states.

 

"So?"

 

Keith groans, "I'm not a kid anymore!"

 

Shiro ruffles Keith's hair with his left hand, the one of skin and warmth, and Keith decides to not argue anymore. Being a kid was hard, but being an adult seemed scarier. 

 

"You'll do good," Shiro nods as he says the words and Keith takes them to mean more than just 'everything will be okay'.

 

Despite never saying it, Keith could tell Shiro knew.

 

Shiro knew why Keith did this, why Keith chose this profession, why Keith wants to do some good. He knew why Keith, despite the fact he was inherently a stubborn and strong-willed person, wanted to be soft and something  _ good _ . 

 

Shiro knew how Keith flinched at the metal of his right arm, knew how Keith probably didn't sleep most nights, knew how Keith was overly protective of his older brother.

 

And Shiro knew how Keith refused to look at the pictures on the fireplace mantle, how Keith was gentle with things that had little importance--old ceramic mugs, flies trapped in window panes. 

 

"You'll do good," Shiro echoes himself, placing the hand that was resting on Keith's head onto his shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. 

 

"Thanks, Takashi." Keith hopes Shiro can understand just how grateful he is. 

 

"Of course," Shiro smiles.

 

(Shiro knew how grateful Keith was, but he doubts Keith knows how grateful he is.) 

 

///

 

Keith pulls into Lance's driveway, sitting in his car for thirty minutes before willing himself up and out of his seat. He settles on bringing in just one suitcase for now, moving as slowly as he can to get it out of the trunk. He drags his feet as he walks to the door, digging out a key that Lance had given to him the previously day. After one more deep breath, Keith opens the door.

 

Or, tries to at least.

 

The key wouldn't unlock the door, no matter how Keith tried. For a few moments, Keith thought maybe he wasn't using the key properly, but then he heard laughter from behind the door.

 

_ Fucking-- _

 

"Lance! I know you're there!" Keith raises a fist and pounds on the door, "Open it!"

 

"Huh? Sorry, I can't hear you, what was that?" Lance's voice is muffled, but Keith could hear him clear enough. 

 

"You're blind not deaf!" 

 

"Sorry, can't hear you!"

 

"Lance!"

 

"Yes?"

 

Keith groans, continuing to knock on the door, "You gave me the wrong key, didn't you!"

 

"Why would I do that?" Lance hums from the other side of the door, and Keith has the sudden urge to knee Lance in the stomach. 

 

"Why don't you tell me?" Keith grunts through clenched teeth, "Also, hah! You can hear me!"

 

"Oh, whoops, I think the phone is ringing~"

 

Keith hears what sounds like footsteps receding and he's about to yell again but then the door unlocks.

 

Keith sighs, taking the handle and pushing it in, ready to scold Lance and not expecting the boy to be right in front of him.

 

"Oh--"

 

"Hello," Lance grins, stepping away from Keith.

 

Keith glares at Lance before walking into the house. 

 

"So..." Keith looks around, realizing he didn't really get to yesterday. The walls at the entrance were a baby blue, a set of glass double doors to the right lead to what looked like an office. To the left was a room with two couches and a bookshelf full of audiotapes. A staircase was directly in front of them. Keith has a sudden vision of Lance tumbling down them and shivers. 

 

"So, uh..." Keith glances around the house again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

 

"Make yourself at home," Lance points up the stairs, "Yours is the first room on the left."

 

Keith nods before mentally slapping himself and mumbling a thanks. Lance nods before disappearing into the interior of the house. 

 

Keith sighs, dragging his suitcase up the stairs. He briefly wonders why Lance needs a caretaker, seeing as he seemed to get around the house fine, but he pushes the thought aside.

 

The first room on the left has white walls. There is a large bed in the corner of the room, it's sheets and pillows are a dark red. Keith shuffles to the closet and opens it, putting his suitcase away. He wanders to the dresser, staring at his reflection in the small mirror that sits on it. In the clean and kept room, he feels out of place. Dark hair grows like a mop on his head, and his baggy sweatshirt and shorts don't really scream formal. 

 

"Keith!"

 

Lance's shout from downstairs brings Keith out of his thoughts. Keith grunts, quickly walking out of the room and down the stairs. 

 

"Sorry," Keith mumbles, finding his way to the kitchen, where Lance sits on a stool.

 

"I'm hungry," Lance states, spinning in his seat. Keith gets a little nervous at the sight, but doesn't say anything.

 

"Okay," Keith looks around the kitchen, "What do you want to eat?"

 

Lance snorts, hopping off of the stool suddenly. "Like I'm going to let you cook." 

 

"But--"

 

Lance raises a hand, as if trying to silence Keith, "Not happening."

 

Keith groans, watching uneasily as Lance moves around the kitchen, feeling for cabinets and drawers. At one point he pulls out a knife and Keith thinks that either he or Lance is going to die. 

 

Lance hums as he wanders around the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out vegetables. Keith sits on the stool, sighing with defeat. If Lance knew what he was doing, Keith wouldn't stop him.

 

When Lance picks up a knife to start cutting tomatoes, Keith stares at him nervously. His hands seem to know what they're doing, and Keith finds himself staring at thin fingers as they hold and slice and hold and move. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees a flash of yellow, and he has a sudden idea. He waits for Lance to finish cutting up the tomato before speaking. 

 

"I can make lemon bars." 

 

Lance puts the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel before walking back to the fridge to pull out cheese. 

 

“Okay,”

 

Keith takes that as a signal that he can go ahead and make them. He grabs the lemons first and then searches around the kitchen for flour and sugar. He hears a quiet chuckle as he's digging through a cabinet. When he turns, he sees a bag of flour and a container full of what looks like sugar sitting on the counter. 

 

"Oh," Keith feels his cheeks burning, "Thanks." 

 

"Don't burn the house down," Lance says jokingly, mixing the tomatoes with onions and a handful of other ingredients in a large blue bowl. 

 

Keith huffs, ignoring the comment and continuing on his hunt for ingredients. Once he's found everything, he begins mixing. He mixes the butter, flour, and sugar and fills the pan with it. He puts the pan into the oven, and while the crust bakes, he grates the lemon peel and mixes it with the remaining ingredients. He can hear Allison's voice in the back of his mind, reminding him to mix the eggs and lemon juice separately. 

 

Keith takes out the partially baked crust and pours the lemon bar mixture over it, making sure it's spread equally, and then puts the pan back into the oven. 

 

He suddenly notices that it feels like someone is staring at him, and he turns around to see Lance now seated at the counter, salsa dip in one bowl, chips in another. 

 

"Done?" Lance asks, taking a chip and loading it with salsa.

 

Keith lets out a small breath, not realizing how focused on the baking he was. "Yeah, I'm done." 

 

Lance nods, shoving the chip in his mouth and chewing while he speaks, "Cool." 

 

Keith sighs, setting a timer on his phone before sitting on the stool next to Lance, "Yeah. Cool." 

 

"So, lemon bars? I feel like there’s gotta be a story there." Lance says once he's swallowed the first chip, reaching for another.

 

"My--" Keith pauses, frowning as he tries to think of the proper word, "my friend taught me." 

 

"You have friends?" Lance chuckles as he shoves another chip in his mouth. "Who woulda thought." 

 

Keith huffs, "I have tons of friends." In his head, Keith can only think of one person other than Shiro who he would call his friend, and even that was pushing it. Maybe more like an acquaintance. 

 

"Suuure, Keith." Lance snorts.

 

Keith sighs, folding his arms on the counter and resting his head on them. He counts time with the crunching of chips, and twenty five chips later, his phone timer goes off. 

 

He stands and finds oven mitts before pulling the bars out of the oven. The kitchen is filled with a familiar warmth and scent that makes Keith's chest ache. He sets the pan down on a coaster to let it cool. 

 

"Hm, it smells good! I'm surprised." Lance teases, hopping off the stool to get a cup of water. 

 

Keith isn't sure if he should be insulted or pleased so he simply grunts in reply. 

 

"What do you..." Keith begins and then trails off. Lance turns to him, frowning.

 

"What do I what?"

 

"What do you usually do? Like, during the day?" Keith stares at the granite countertop, counting the small pebbles. 

 

"Oh," Lance hums, "I like to crochet. And play the piano. Reading--uh, I guess it's more like listening. To audiobooks."

 

"Crotchet...?" Keith asks in confusion.

 

Lance laughs at Keith's disbelief, "Yeah, my mom taught me." 

 

"Isn't it difficult?"

 

Lance shrugs, spinning in the stool, "Not really, and besides, doing nothing was worse." 

 

"Oh," Keith's brow furrows as he continues to stare at the counter, opening his mouth only to close it without any words coming out. 

 

Lance stops spinning and gets up off the stool, putting the leftover salsa away in the fridge. Keith notes the way Lance walks with his hands slightly in front of him, opening the fridge and finding a spot for the bowl with ease. 

 

Keith doesn't mean to blurt out what he does, but it's been bothering him for some time.

 

"How long have you been blind?" 

 

Lance stops in his motions, before sighing and closing the fridge. "Six years." 

 

Keith frowns. That would mean Lance had his vision until he was nineteen years old. Keith wants to ask how Lance lost it, but the way Lance's shoulders hunch and the droop of his head stop him. 

 

Lance shuffles out of the kitchen and Keith, not for the first time in his life, is left feeling incredibly awkward and unsure of what to do next. 

 

Keith tiptoes behind Lance, following him into the living room near the front entrance. Lance runs his fingers along the shelves of audiotapes. Upon closer inspection, Keith realizes that the tapes have braille on the side. 

 

Keith watches as Lance scans the tapes, eventually choosing one and taking it off the shelf. 

 

"What books do you read?" Lance asks suddenly, causing Keith to jump.

 

"Uh," If he were being honest, Keith didn't read all that much. And the reading he did do wasn't exactly what one would call scholastic. 

 

"You give off this weird emo vibe, like, I bet you read Stephen King." Lance laughs at his own joke.

 

"Emo?" Keith huffs, looking down at his black clothing which Lance can't even see, "How am I emo?"

 

"Are you telling me you don't listen to MCR and Panic?" Lance picks up a tape player and sits down on one of the blue couches. 

 

"MCR is not emo!" Keith crosses his arm, "How can you even tell?" 

 

"What, that you're emo?" Lance is smirking now and Keith hates it, yeah, he definitely hates it. 

 

"Yes--no! I'm not emo," Keith grunts, plopping himself down on a couch opposite Lance.

 

"Please, you practically emit the vibes of a seventh grader going through their goth phase." Lance snorts, popping the tape into the player. 

 

"Hmph," Keith crosses his legs, sinking back into the couch. He watches as Lance puts on a pair of headphones and closes his eyes.

 

Keith stares at Lance, the way he sits on the couch, head propped up against the wall behind him, hands folded in his lap. He smiles or laugh occasionally, and sometimes a look of confusion passes over his face before it fades into one of understanding. The slope of Lance's nose is uneven and Keith wonders if he broke it as a kid. His lips are thin, Keith thinks his mouth is small for someone who talks so big. His brown hair is neatly combed into place, and it looks like it'd be soft to the touch. Keith thinks he sees a small black piercing in Lance's right ear but he could be wrong. The baggy pale blue sweater Lance has on flows over his knuckles, and comes to an end above his thigh. 

 

Keith wonders how Lance gets ready in the morning and manages to look so good. 

 

"You stare so loudly." Lance states. The speed with which Keith sits up properly gives him whiplash.

 

"Uh," 

 

"I know I'm beautiful but geez," Lance shakes his head dramatically.

 

"I--" Keith clears his throat, huffing, "I wasn't staring." 

 

"It's okay, Keith, a man's gotta appreciate beauty when he sees it." Lance says, and Keith detects some bitterness in his reply. 

 

"Uhm," Keith swallows nervously, "Okay." 

 

Lance sighs, "You're free to listen to them. Better than having you sit there awkwardly." 

 

Keith nods, wants to slaps himself again, and then stands to look at the books. He recognizes a few, but for the most part, he doesn't know many of them. 

 

"Don't break anything," Lance states.

 

"I won't," Keith grunts, continuing to scan the titles. He suddenly gets an idea and he knows he'll probably regret it very soon. 

 

"I can read to you."

 

Lance's brows furrow as he looks in Keith's direction, "What?" 

 

"Like, a book." Keith manages to say. 

 

"Why?"

 

Keith huffs, looking around the room, "Isn't listening to a voice on tape kind of..."

 

"Weird?" Lance shrugs, "I guess. But I can't read braille well enough to read books in it. So, audio books it is. Even if I'm listening to a strangers voice."

 

"I...I could read to you." Keith says again.

 

Lance seems to look right at Keith, a skill that Keith thinks is terrifying. Keith is almost certain that Lance is going to say no, that Lance is going to make fun of Keith and tell him that he's in way over his head, but instead, he smiles, and Keith finds himself wishing Lance would've just rejected him. 

 

"Sure. No weird emo books, though."

 

"I'm not emo!"

 

Lance laughs, a sound like bells ringing and birds singing, and Keith can't help the small smile that finds its way onto his face. 

 

///

 

When Keith wakes the next morning, he is slightly disoriented. It takes him a moment to remember where he is and why his alarm was going off at eight am. 

 

He manages to crawl out of bed and into the bathroom, where he quickly showers and gets dressed, before walking to Lance's room.

 

Keith can hear the shower already running in Lance's bathroom, and once again, he finds himself questioning whether Lance even needed a caretaker. 

 

Keith sighs, looking around the room. Unlike his room, Lance's walls are blue. Keith begins to wonder if blue used to be Lance's favorite color. To be honest, Lance reminded Keith of red; something warm and loud, not cold and distant. 

 

The shower turns off and Keith hurries out of the room and downstairs, frowning at the small mess in the living room. They had ordered pizza last night and the box lay empty on the coffee table, various audiobooks scattered around it. Keith vaguely remembers drifting off last night and Lance poking him awake. He picks up the box and carries it with him to the kitchen, dropping it in front of the trashcan. He thinks he should get started on breakfast, but he doesn't know what Lance would want. They had ate a few of the lemon bars last night--Lance's expression softened for a moment before it turned into a smug look, "Who woulda thought! They taste good!"---and the rest sat in the fridge, wrapped in foil. Keith pulls them out, as well as a carton of eggs. 

 

Keith hears a door shutting and footsteps coming down the stairs. He looks up to a see Lance, his hair wrapped up in a towel, and his face covered in some green lotion. 

 

"Uh, Lance?"

 

Lance hums, "Yes, Keith?" 

 

"Your...face."

 

"It's called a face mask, you heathen." Lance hisses, sitting down on a stool. Keith snorts, ignoring the hesitance with which Lance leans on the counter. 

 

"What do you want to eat?" Keith asks as he looks through the cabinets, scanning for the flour.

 

"Can you cook?" Lance's question isn't as rude as it could be, but rather, it sounds like genuine curiosity. 

 

"I guess," Keith mumbles, ignoring the nagging feeling that pricks the back of his mind. 

 

"Me too," Lance sighs, and Keith doesn't miss the longing in it. "I used to cook all the time, but mom stopped letting me use the oven and stove. She was afraid I'd burn myself." 

 

Lance's hands fall into his lap and he jumps off his stool. Keith stares at the slouch of Lance's shoulders and something in his chest aches.   

 

"I'm gonna go wash this off." Lance mumbles before shuffling out of the kitchen and back upstairs. Keith frowns as Lance leaves, hoping he'll either learn to avoid stepping on the eggshells that make Lance tick in a bad way, or that the eggshells will somehow disappear. 

 

Keith stares at the ingredients in front of him and groans. He settles on making scrambled eggs and pancakes, something he's pretty certain he can't mess up.

 

Lance arrives back in the kitchen a few minutes, face now clean, and Keith denies the fact that his skin seems to glow. 

 

"Ooh, eggs." Lance sniffs the air, humming. "Do you know how to make them sunny side up?" 

 

Keith stares at the pan in front of him, eggs already scrambled, and bites the inside of his cheek, "...Yes." 

 

Lance sits back down on the stool near the counter--Keith notes how he always seems to sit on the the middle one--and laughs. "You already made them another way, didn't you?"

 

Keith grunts, "I can make them sunny side up, I just need a minute."

 

Lance hums, "Alright, Keef."

 

Keith narrows his eyes at the new nickname, choosing not to comment on it as he puts some oil in a pan and cracks an egg into it. 

 

"Sooo," Lance drawls, his fingers tapping on the counter insistently 

 

"So," Keith repeats him, poking at the edge of the egg to see if it's cooked properly. Once he decides it's done, he slides it onto a plate and places it in front of Lance.

 

Lance seems to be looking for something, and by the time Keith realizes he needs a fork, he's already up and off the stool, shuffling to the drawer next to the sink and digging around for a fork. Keith reaches to help him, but then Lance makes a small pained sound and quickly pulls his hand away from the drawer, and Keith sees a small trickle of blood on the side of Lance's hand. 

 

"Lance!"

 

Keith reaches out and tries to grab Lance's hand in order to inspect the cut, but Lance doesn't let him. He takes a step backward, keeping his hand close to his chest and biting his lip in pain. 

 

"Let me see it, Lance," Keith takes a step closer to Lance, whose back is now pressed against the fridge. 

 

"I'm fine," Lance hisses through gritted teeth and Keith frowns at how not-fine he is. 

 

"Lance," Keith pleads, trying to get the man to at least show him his hand. 

 

"Mmmf," Lance grunts, reluctantly offering his injured hand to Keith. Keith takes it into his own hand gingerly, noting the way Lance winces when he does.

 

The cut isn't too deep, which immediately relieves some of Keith's stress. Keith figures Lance must have cut it on a knife while rummaging through the drawer. 

 

"Good thing you didn't slice it on a sharper one," Keith hums as he turns Lance's palm to make sure there are no other scratches. He's not at all shocked by how soft his hands are, but he is surprised at the small calluses on Lance's fingertips. He tells himself to ask Lance about those later. 

 

"Let's just wash it for now and wrap it up," Keith leads Lance to the sink, turning the water on and running Lance's hand underneath it. 

 

"There," Keith looks around and locates a paper towel roll. He rips a piece and dries Lance's hand with it.

 

"Where's the first aid stuff?" Keith asks, letting go of Lance's hand and throwing away the paper towel.

 

"Bathroom cabinet," Lance mumbles.

 

Keith nods, walking back to Lance to grab his wrist and lead him to the bathroom. He makes the man sit on the edge of the tub as he searches the cabinet for some gauze. 

 

"Found it," Keith states, turning to face Lance again. He's about to ask for Lance's hand when he realizes the man seems to be in his own world. 

 

"Lance?"

 

"I can do it myself," Lance speaks suddenly, reaching out with his good hand. 

 

"But--"

 

Lance grunts, "Just give me the gauze." 

 

Keith wants to protest, but the hard-set of his eyes makes him stop.

 

"Alright," Keith hands the gauze to Lance and watches as he unrolls it. Lance wraps it around his hand, and Keith watches as his thin fingers tear the gauze. Once Lance is finished wrapping his hand, he tosses the roll in Keith's direction. Keith jumps in surprise, the gauze almost falling from his hands when he catches it. 

 

"The eggs are probably cold," Lance mumbles, slowly standing. 

 

Keith can't help but chuckle at that, "The eggs? Really?" 

 

Lance sticks out his tongue, "Yes."

 

Keith sidesteps out of the way so Lance can exit the bathroom. His hands run along the walls of the hall as he walks back to the kitchen. Keith follows behind him. 

 

Lance sits back down on his stool, poking his egg with a finger and frowning, "What did I say..." 

 

Keith sighs, "I can make more eggs, Lance."

 

"Hmm," Lance hops off his seat and walks towards the stove. Keith watched wearily as Lance picks up an egg and cracks it into a pan with a sort of practiced ease. 

 

"Lance, let me," Keith shuffles up besides Lance, trying to take the pan from him.

 

"I can do it," Lance huffs, reaching to turn the stove on.

 

"You might hurt yourself again--"

 

Lance sets the pan down with more force than Keith thinks is required. 

 

Keith swallows the lump in his throat. 

 

"Whatever, I'm not even hungry. I'm going to my room." Lance storms away, leaving Keith staring after him.

 

Keith frowns as he turns to the egg on the stove, sighing as he puts the stove on. He finds flour and eggs and sets to work on making pancakes as well.  

 

Keith hears footsteps from the floor above, hears them going from left and right, side to side, and then he hears a quiet thud, followed by a groan. Keith snickers, using a spatula to put the eggs and pancakes on a plate. 

 

Keith pulls out a fork from the drawer Lance was going through, dropping it onto the plate before heading to the fridge to find syrup. Once he has everything, he shuffles up the stairs, walking towards Lance's room.

 

"Lance?"

 

"Nngh,"

 

Keith pushes the door open, entering slowly. He sees Lance sitting on the edge of the bed, his left foot up on his right thigh, and he has his hands wrapped around his big toe. 

 

"I made breakfast," Keith bites back a smirk at Lance's exaggerated frown.

 

"Great," Lance grumbles, letting go of his toe and putting his foot back on the ground.

 

Keith chuckles, sitting next to Lance on the bed. He sets the plate down in Lance's lap, humming.

 

"Your toe alright?"

 

"Yeah," Lance shrugs, picking up the fork and stabbing a pancake. 

 

"Um," Keith clears his throat, suddenly feeling very awkward. He was used to Lance doing all the talking, and didn't know the first place to start. 

 

"You're bad at this," Lance states, putting down the fork. He closes his eyes and Keith stares at the way dark lashes kiss caramel skin. 

 

"Sorry," Keith grunts, crossing his arms.

 

"You apologize a lot," Lance sighs, "I'm not mad or anything, just, kinda tired."

 

"Oh, do you want to take a nap or something?" Keith begins to stand, pausing when Lance snorts. 

 

"Not that kind of tired,"

 

"Oh,"

 

They sit in almost silence for a few moments, the only sound is the scrape of Lance's fork against the plate as he picks it up to take a bite of his breakfast.

 

"I'm not good at caretaking," Keith confesses, folding his hands in his laps, "I don't know how to not mess up."

 

_ I'm afraid I'll mess up and something will happen to you. _

 

Lance sighs; his breath slipping through his lips is the only sound in the room.

 

"When I lost my vision, my mom began to take care of me," Lance's eyebrows furrow, and Keith notices the way his fist clenches around the fork he holds. 

 

"She could tell it was difficult for me to adapt. But, she never looked down on or pitied me. She supported me in the ways I needed to be supported, and she let me continue living life like normal."

 

"She--she told me that life had a plan for me. That I could stay at home for as long as I wanted, and that she would always be there for me." The words seem to fall out of Lance's mouth with a practiced difficulty, like he's been wanting to say them for a long, long time. 

 

"She was trying to help me go back to school so I could get my degree. I was a first year Astrophysics major when I lost my vision. My mom said I could still do amazing things, like work on designing ships and creating new ways to explore deep space." 

 

"She signed me up for special online classes--I finally got back some part of the life I had before the accident." 

 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut tight, and Keith sees tears beginning to pool at the ducts, and be wishes he had the power to make them stop.

 

"She wasn't supposed to die." 

 

Keith knows he should say something, knows he should find the words that will somehow soothe Lance's heart, but he can't. He doesn't know what to say to make Lance smile. 

 

"But, it doesn't matter anymore." Lance brings up a hand to wipe his eyes, "She's gone and I have to keep living life the way she wanted me to."

 

Keith nods, "And how is that?"

 

"She didn't want loss of sight to affect me," Lance states, "She wanted me to keep living my life like I was before. She was always there for me, but never looked down on. She never made me feel any less than human just because I can't see." 

 

"Mm," Keith nods, understanding what Lance meant, and feeling guilty. The last thing he wanted was to make Lance feel like that. 

 

Lance clears his throat, "So, I don't need you to baby me. I get it, you're my 'caretaker', but I'm not that incompetent. I guess mom was feeling a little overprotective and wanted me to have someone around so that I wouldn't accidentally burn the house down, but I've dealt with this for long enough to function on my own."

 

"I'm not going to kick you out because I'll surely feel my mom's wrath from heaven, and I acknowledge there's some things that having you here for will make them easier to do, but you can't constantly be hovering over my shoulder." 

 

Keith bites the inside of his cheek, nodding, "Okay. No hovering."

 

"That's all you have to do." Lance states, "Help me when I  _ need _ help, not just whenever I do anything at all." 

 

Keith nods, "Okay, I can manage that."

 

"Good," Lance picks at his food again, sighing, "The eggs are cold."

 

Keith sighs, unable to hide the small smile on his face, "God dammit, Lance."

 

"I'll make some more," Lance stands, holding the plate in his hand. 

 

Keith is about to tell Lance that he can make them, but bites his tongue. 

 

He remembers something from the caretaking course he had taken, in fact, in was one of the few things he had really remembered.

 

_ "You must keep in mind that each person is different. It's up to you to determine how to approach caring for them." _

 

Keith follows behind Lance, getting lost in thought as he replays the conversation they had just had in his head.

 

How was he going to care for Lance?

 

"Keith! Hurry up," Lance calls from the bottom of the stairs, "I'm gonna eat some of those lemon bars too."

 

Keith snorts, picking up his pace as he leaves Lance's room, "I am hurrying!" 

 

Keith pushes away the fears of not being able to fulfill the role of Lance's caretaker and instead focuses on a smaller goal. 

 

Keith would find a way to make sure Lance smiled; 

 

Because although Keith wouldn't admit it, he believed Lance looked most beautiful when he was happy. 

 

///

 

Keith doesn't know Lance has a cane until they go the park a week later. 

 

"Like I'm going to trust you to make sure I don't walk into a tree," Lance had said, pointing at Keith accusingly. 

 

Adjusting had been hard. Lance is nothing like Allison. Lance was young and capable, Lance could walk without aid, could talk without forgetting himself, could cook and clean--although he usually chose not to do the latter--and just didn't seem to have to rely on Keith. In the past week, Lance has only asked for help twice. Once to find an audiobook he had misplaced, and once to help with dinner. Most days, there was a comfortable silence between them. Lance would listen to his tapes, Keith would keep himself busy with a book of his own. They had watched one movie together, and Keith had been impressed with the audio descriptions that had played with it. 

 

When they go to the park, Lance insists Keith swings with him. Keith had offered to push Lance instead, but the man had refused. 

 

"But, they're for kids," Keith tries to argue.

 

"That's a shame," Lance states, heading towards the swings anyway. His cane makes a clicking sound as it taps against the ground, and when it taps against the swing, Lance hums, flicking the cane so it folds back into itself before turning to plop down on to the swing's seat. 

 

Keith watches wearily as he sees a small child approaching Lance. He knows Lance can handle himself, but a part of him still worries.

 

From where he stands, he can see the kid staring up at Lance with wide eyes. Lance laughs when the kid says something, reaching forward to ruffle their hair. The child's blank face breaks into a grin before they run off to join their friends. 

 

Keith chuckles, stalking over to the swings and dropping onto the seat. 

 

"What was that about?"

 

Lance shrugs, "He was telling me he likes my shirt." 

 

Keith glances at the shirt Lance wears before snorting, "What are you, five?"

 

Lance grins, puffing out his chest proudly, "There is nothing wrong with the minions."

 

"Please," Keith rolls his eyes. A few moments of silence pass again before Lance speaks. 

 

"So, Keef," Lance kicks his feet in the air, smiling as the warm breeze hits his face. 

 

"Yes, Lance?" Keith pushes off the ground lazily, his swing swaying back and forth slowly. 

 

"How many people did you take care of before me?"

 

"One." Keith sighs; Lance had been asking him a lot of questions in the past week. 

 

_ "Can you pass the salt--oh, and what's your favorite color?" _

 

_ "Here, and it's red. Is yours blue?"  _

 

_ "Hey! How'd you know ? _ ”

 

"Is that why you're bad at it?" Lance asked, but it doesn't come off as an insult. 

 

"Yeah, probably," Keith shrugs, "She's an elderly woman, so it was completely different." 

 

_ "What about your favorite pastime?" _

 

_ "Um, working out, I guess?" _

 

_ "God, you really are lame." _

 

"Mm, interesting." Lance stops pumping his legs, allowing the swing to slow down. He closes his eyes, and Keith once again finds himself drawn to the thin lashes and glowing skin.

 

_ "Birthday?" _

 

_ "October twenty-third." _

 

_ "Hah, a scorpio! What did I expect," _

 

When Lance opens them and sighs with content, Keith suddenly wonders something.

 

"Lance, are you completely blind?"

 

Lance lets his toes dig into the ground, stopping the swing, "Not exactly."

 

"Hm," 

 

"I can tell when things are light or dark. That's about it though. I can't really make out shapes." Lance's head droops, eyes closing again. 

 

"Oh, that makes sense. I always wondered why you slept with your eyes closed."

 

Lance snorts, "Keith, my eyes would dry out if I kept them open." 

 

"Oh...right." 

 

Lance nods, shrugging, "Aren't you going to ask how I dream?"

 

"I wasn't going to but now I'm curious." 

 

Lance shrugs again, "It's something most people ask me. It's kinda weird because I used to be able to see. Sometimes my dreams are actually images and shapes, and sometimes they're just sounds and lights. It's not entirely different than how I used to dream." 

 

Keith has another question on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't think Lance would tell him the answer.

 

_ How did you become blind? _

 

"Do you want to get ice cream," Keith blurts out instead, not liking the way Lance's smile has disappeared.

 

"Is that a question?" Lance lifts his head up and laughs a little, "But, yeah. I never say no to ice cream."

 

Lance stands, stretching before picking up his cane. Keith stares at the small exposed section on Lance's stomach when he stretches, watching as the muscles there flex and then relax. Keith blinks a few times, clearing his throat as he looks away from Lance. He stands, before suddenly realizing he didn't actually know where they could get ice cream from. 

 

"Is there any place in particular you wanted to go?" Keith asks, hoping Lance wouldn't be able to tell Keith had no idea where to go.

 

"Have you ever been to the ice cream parlor near the library? They make awesome milkshakes." 

 

Keith lets out what he hopes is an inaudible sigh of relief, "Never been. Let's go."

 

Luckily, Keith knows where the library is. 

 

Now he has the five minute walk to think of how he's going to tell Lance he can't actually eat ice cream.

 

_ "You're lactose intolerant?!" _

 

_ "Yes?" _

 

_ "Why am I not surprised." _

 

_ "Excuse me?" _

 

///

 

It's a few days later when Keith finds himself staring at a tall man in a bright yellow shirt. 

 

"Hi, you must be Keith! Is Lance home? What am I saying, of course he's home. Lance! It's me!"

 

Keith stares blankly as the man waltzes past him and into the house. Keith furrows his brows, about to call Lance again, when he hears quick footsteps. He turns to see Lance running down the stairs, a large grin on his face, and wow, Keith's heart was weaker than he thought.

 

"Hunk!"

 

"Buddy!"

 

Keith watches as the tall man, Hunk?, pulls Lance into a bear hug. Lance is unable to wrap his own arms around the man, since they're currently being pressed to his sides by Hunk.

 

"Ouch, okay, lungs, Hunk, lungs!"

 

"Oh, whoops, sorry," Hunk chuckles, letting Lance go, "It's been so long!"

 

"It's been like, three weeks, but I missed you too." Lance smiles, his left dimple showing, and Keith decides that if this Hunk person could make Lance look so happy, then Keith liked him. 

 

"How was camp?" Lance asks, walking towards the kitchen. 

 

"Awesome! The kids had so much fun," Hunk follows behind Lance as he chatters. "We missed you, though."

 

"You say that every year." Lance chuckles, sitting down on his favorite stool. 

 

"Because we miss you every year!" 

 

In a quieter voice, Hunk adds, "Although I really wish I had stayed with you this year. 

 

Lance smiles, still soft but a little worn at the edges, "You had no way of knowing what would happen. I'm happy you came home for the funeral."

 

"Of course. Pidge feels bad they've been out of the country. They come home next week, I think." 

 

"Honestly, the Holts deserve the break."

 

"Aren't they still doing research in the mountains though?"

 

"Last I spoke with Pidge, they were charting the Doppler shifts of new stars." 

 

"Man, the Holts are so cool." 

 

Lance nods in agreement, "They are. Don't tell Pidge I said that. They can't know I think they're cool. They'd never let me live it down."

 

Keith remains standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unsure of whether to enter or go to his room. 

 

"Oh, Keith! Sorry, I didn't even introduce myself! I'm Hunk," The cheery man grins, offering a hand. Keith takes it, nodding his acknowledgement.

 

"I've heard a lot about you. Lance was right, you are kinda emo." Hunk tells him. Keith wants to question what else Lance has said, but he saves that for another day. 

 

"I knew it!" Lance grins triumphantly, "Is he wearing a band shirt?"

 

"Actually yeah," Hunk chuckles, "'My Chemical Romance'." 

 

Keith huffs, "MCR is not emo!"

 

"Keep telling yourself that, Keef." Lance laughs as he spins around in his stool. Keith grunts, directing his attention back to Hunk.

 

"It's nice to meet you," Keith nods in Hunk's direction. 

 

"You too, buddy. Thanks for taking care of this goofball," Hunk tosses an arm around Lance, laughing when the man tries to shrug out from underneath it.

 

"How am I a goofball?!"

 

"Yesterday you asked me if I heard a squeaking noise and then proceeded to fart." Keith states, crossing his arms with a smirk.

 

Hunk laughs, "Sounds like Lance." 

 

"Keith! How could you betray me!"  Lance gasps, bringing a hand to his heart to feign hurt. Keith snorts, rolling his eyes. 

 

"Oh! I almost forgot," Hunk pulls out a container from a small bag Keith didn't even notice he was holding, "I made  _ keke fa'i."  _

 

"You are truly an angel, Hunk," Lance turns sideways on his stool to wrap his arms around Hunk's abdomen. Hunk chuckles, patting Lance's head affectionately. 

 

Keith smiles at the interaction between the two friends, and he finds some peace in the fact that Lance wasn't alone before he came along. 

 

(Hunk catches the soft smile Keith's giving Lance out of the corner of his eyes and can't help but grin.)

 

///

 

Keith doesn't realize the time passing, but it does. 

 

On the days Hunk comes over, the three of them watch movies and eat Hunk's cooking. Keith never really had a favorite food before meeting Hunk--he was the opposite of a picky eater and usually just ate whatever food was laying around--but now eating takeout feels like a sin. 

 

Hunk was more than happy to share his recipes with them and Keith had filed them away to try with Lance on a rainy day. 

 

Today it was pouring out, the rain pounding like angry footsteps on the roof--a perfect day to pull out one of those recipes. 

 

"Lance!" Keith yells up the stairs, "Are you still asleep?" 

 

"Yes!" Comes the muffled shout from Lance's bedroom.

 

Keith groans, stomping up the stairs. It was already noon, and Lance had gone to bed relatively early the night before. They were halfway through the first Star Wars movie--upon Lance's insistence, Keith had agreed to watching--when Lance had fallen asleep, his head drooping onto Keith's shoulder. Keith had gone frigid, afraid the slightest movement would wake the sleeping man. 

 

Eventually, Keith had nudged him awake, ignoring the odd feeling of emptiness he felt when Lance lifted his head, brunette curls no longer tickling his chin. 

 

"Lance, you've been asleep--" Keith stops talking abruptly as he bursts into Lance's room, staring at the lump on the bed. 

 

"Lance?" 

 

"Sleeping," The pile of blankets seems to mumble. 

 

Keith sighs, shuffling over to the bed and placing a hand on the lump. "What's wrong?"

 

Lance grunts, "Can't a man just sleep?" 

 

Keith frowns, "For twelve hours?"

 

Lance pauses for a moment before speaking again, "Yes." 

 

The rain outside seems to become louder for a moment and Keith watches as the blankets that wrap around Lance are pulled tighter. 

 

_ Maybe he's scared of storms? _

 

"I was thinking we could try making one of Hunk's recipes, since the weather's too bad to go anywhere." 

 

"I'm tired," Lance mumbles, and Keith understands exactly what kind of tired he is. 

 

"Okay," Keith says, awkwardly patting what he hopes is Lance's back. "I'll make us something for breakfast." 

 

"'Kay," The blanket lumps moves around a bit before Lance's head pops out, "I'll come down in a little bit." 

 

Keith doesn't like the way Lance's eyes seem to be red from crying, but he isn't sure how to ask why. 

 

"Take a shower, too," Keith says before leaving the room, laughing when Lance yells back something about how Keith doesn't know the first thing about "proper hygiene". 

 

(Keith wonders how much Lance would yell at him if he found out he uses bar soap to wash his hair.)

 

Keith settles on heating up leftovers from the previous night--Thai food--and starts on brewing tea for himself and coffee for Lance. 

 

Once the food is heated up, he sets two plates on the counter, putting the bowl with the leftover Pad Thai next to them. 

 

Keith sits down at the counter with his tea while the coffee maker blinks red as it heats up. He flicks through a book that Lance had insisted he read; it was about a man from Earth getting dragged around the Universe. Fittingly, it was titled 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. 

 

Keith becomes so absorbed in reading he doesn't realize when the coffee light turns green. He doesn't realize it until twenty minutes have passed and Lance still hasn't come downstairs. 

 

Keith sighs, taking the pot out and placing it on the stove, setting the heat on low so the coffee will warm up. He walks back to the stairs, yelling up them again.

 

"Lance!"

 

"One minute!" 

 

Keith closes his eyes, shaking his head. At least the voice was coming from the bathroom instead of the bedroom. 

 

Keith settles back onto the stool, sipping his now lukewarm tea. He picks the book up again, eager to continue learning about Deep Thought. 

 

A few minutes pass before Keith begins to smell something funny, and he looks up to see the coffee pot sitting on the stove--

 

oh.

 

"Shit!" Keith hops up, running to the stove to turn it off. Keith groans; the coffee smelled awful and there was no way Lance would drink this. 

 

"Keith?" 

 

Speak of the devil.

 

Keith spins around, the coffee pot in his hands, "Hi." 

 

"You alright?" Lance sits down on a stool, and Keith stares at a droplet of water that drips from Lance's hair, running down his chin and then dropping onto the counter. 

 

"Yeah," Keith clears his throat, "Sorry it, um, smells bad? I'll make more coffee, give me a sec."

 

Lance sticks his nose in the air and sniffs, before shrugging, "Really? I can't smell anything." 

 

Keith furrows his brows, "It's burnt coffee, how can you not--"

 

"I've always had a pretty shit sense of smell," Lance says, "Both a blessing and a curse. Here, I'll make a new pot. You can finish eating."

 

Keith frowns, setting the pot down. "If you say so." 

 

Lance nods, smiling as he spins the stool before hopping off, "You never add enough sugar to my coffee anyway." 

 

Keith snorts, "You put in so much creamer too, why don't you just drink milk?" 

 

Lance takes the pot off the stove and dumps out the contents, rinsing the pot out once before placing it back into the coffee maker. 

 

"It's not the same, Keef," Lance shakes his head, "Coffee is coffee, no matter how much milk you add!" 

 

"I don't think that's--"

 

"Oh, gross, it really does smell." Lance crinkles his nose once the scent hits him.

 

Keith chuckles, sitting back down at the counter and picking up his book. 

 

Lance presses a button on the coffee maker, humming under his breath as he does, before joining Keith, folding his arms on the counter and resting his head on them.

 

"Whatcha doing?" 

 

Keith turns a page in the book, "Reading."

 

"Ooh, what?"

 

"The book you said I should read," Keith states, eyes glued to the page, totally not because he's afraid if he looks over at Lance he won't be able look away. 

 

"Oh! Which part are you at?" Lance shifts, leaning on his elbows and resting his chin in his hands. 

 

"Dunno," Keith mumbles, keenly aware of the scent of Lance's lotion--fresh cucumber and cotton. 

 

"Wanna read to me?" 

 

Keith freezes, glancing over to see blue eyes staring at him. Lance has a soft smile on his face, one that doesn't quite spread across his cheeks all the way, but still makes Keith's heart skip a beat. 

 

"Um--"

 

Lance's face quickly turn bright red, "If you want to, I mean, like, you don't have to, I have that book on audio tape but I remember you said you could read to me but it's fine--"

 

Keith laughs, loud and until he's out of breath, and Lance goes quiet.

 

"Yeah, I'll read to you." 

 

Lance grins, this time his dimples show up, and Keith tells his heart to calm down. Lance rests his head back on folded arms, closing his eyes and humming.

 

Keith clears his throat before starting, forcing himself to stop counting the freckles on the bridge of Lance's nose and to focus on the book. 

 

_ "'I checked it very thoroughly,' said the computer, 'and that quite definitely is the answer. I think the problem, to be quite honest with you, is that you've never actually known what the question is.'" _

 

///

 

"Wanna smoke some weed?"

 

Keith stares at the small human in front of him, squinting with confusion, because the last time he checked, people didn't typically go door to door selling pot, "Excuse me?" 

 

"I'm Pidge, Lance's friend," They offer a hand and Keith takes it warily.

 

"O...kay?" Keith wonders if all of Lance's friends are a bit odd. 

 

"Lance!" They yell into the house, "Get your ass to the door!"

 

Keith hears a grunt, followed by a quiet thud, and then a flustered shout.

 

"Keith, why do you keep moving things!"

 

"Still walking into walls, hm," Pidge chuckles under their breath. 

 

Lance appears next to Keith at the doorway, rubbing his nose gently, "Hi, Pidge." 

 

"I wanna play Mario Kart." Pidge states, walking past Keith and Lance. 

 

"Why? Wanna get you ass positively whooped?" Lance snorts, walking behind Pidge. 

 

Keith closes the front door before following the two into the living room. 

 

He wants to ask how exactly Lance is going to play, and is still confused as to why Pidge may possibly have weed. 

 

His first question gets answered when Lance pulls on a pair of headphones. Lance explains, with a smile so wide that it makes Keith's heart thrum, that Pidge had written a program that verbally explains what the courses looks like, including all and any turns, special objects, and other players. 

 

"Whoa, really?" Keith stares at Pidge, "That's really cool." 

 

Pidge grins smugly, "I'm not a game designer for no reason." 

 

Keith looks back over to Lance, who grins as he uses the controller to flick through different vehicle options. He's completely lost in his own world, and Keith can't help but smile at the man's childish excitement. Keith doesn't notice Pidge's eyes on him, or the small smirk on their face. 

 

"Oh, so that's how it is." Pidge cackles--Keith swears they actually cackle--and whistles under their breath.

 

Keith clears his throat, hoping his face doesn't look as red as it feels, "Um, I'm--I'm going to get drinks. Pidge?" 

 

"I'm good with water," They shrug, picking up their own controller as they select a character. 

 

Keith nods, heading back towards the kitchen to get water for Pidge and iced tea for himself and Lance. Within a minute, he can hear Pidge screaming and Lance laughing gleefully. 

 

When Keith joins them again, Pidge quickly puts the game on multiplayer and gets another controller for Keith. 

 

Later, Keith would lie and say the reason he lost against Lance was because he had never played before, not because he couldn't tear his eyes away from the smile on the other man's face. Pidge laughs the whole time, making a snarky comment more than once, and Keith decides he likes them, even if they kept giving Keith little smug grins every time he ran into a banana, again, totally not because he was too busy staring at Lance. 

 

(Keith doesn't ever get a chance to ask about the weed, but he's also pretty sure he doesn't want to know.)

 

///

 

Keith is in the middle of ordering pizza when Lance slides--literally slides--into the kitchen, skidding to an abrupt stop in front of the counter. His palms slam into the granite, gripping onto it so he doesn't fall. 

 

"Yes, that will be all," Keith hopes Lance can feel the glare he's giving him, but based on the grin that's spread across his cheeks, he doubts it. 

 

Once he hangs up, Keith stalks over to Lance, frowning. He stops next to him, staring down to see mermaid patterned fuzzy socks on his feet. 

 

Lance stomps a few times, still grinning, "Hunk got these for me."

 

Keith snorts, "Of course he did." 

 

"Did you order the pizza?" Lance asks, sliding over to the living room.

 

Keith rolls his eyes, following after and plopping down onto a couch, "Yes." 

 

"Pineapple?"

 

Keith groans, "Yes."

 

Lance grins, flopping onto the couch, hanging his legs off the edge, his head falling dangerously close to Keith's thigh. He moves his legs in the air in a way that brings a question to Keith's mind.

 

"Do you know how to bike?"

 

Lance stops moving his legs, letting them fall back down and drop over the arm of the couch.

 

"Yeah," Lance hums, closing his eyes. "My dad taught me."

 

Keith stares at the crease in Lance's eyebrows, and suddenly realizes this was the first time Lance had ever mentioned his father. Keith noticed the lack of a father in the framed photos that could be found around the house, but it was a fleeting thought that he had since filed away in the back of his mind. 

 

Without realizing, Keith found his finger pressed against the skin between Lance's brows. Lance's eyes don't open, but a small sigh falls from his mouth. The crease seems to melt away. 

 

"What do you wanna watch?" Keith asks, slowly moving his hand so that his thumb rests where his index finger did, his palm now lying flat against Lance's forehead. 

 

"Hm," Keith stares at the slight bob of Lance's throat when he hums. "I'm feeling a High School Musical marathon." 

 

"Again?" Keith groans, "We watched those like a week ago." 

 

"Um, you fell asleep." Lance says accusingly.

 

"So did you!" 

 

"Touché," Lance laughs. 

 

"But, I guess we can." Keith sighs.

 

"Sweet!" Lance sits up abruptly. Keith frowns as his hand slides off of Lance's head. 

 

"Where are you going?" Keith asks when Lance stands, seeming to head towards the kitchen.

 

"Getting drinks," Lance grins as he says this, and Keith gets a bad feeling. 

 

Keith closes his eyes, leaning back into the couch and suppressing a laugh when he hears an "Ow!" followed by an "I'm fine!" 

 

He opens them again when he feels a dip in the couch. Lance is sitting there, two beer bottles in his hands. 

 

"For you," Lance offers him one and Keith accepts it, snorting.

 

"What?" Lance huffs, lifting the open bottle to his lips.

 

"Nothing," Keith shakes his head, setting the drink down on the ground before standing. "I'll set up the movie. Pizza should be here in thirty." 

 

Lance nods, snuggling back into the couch. 

By the time the pizza arrives, Lance is singing along to Sharpay and Ryan's rendition of 'What I've Been Looking For'. Keith has to hold back laughter as he pays the delivery boy, made more difficult by the absolutely confused look on the boy's face at the sound of the song playing loudly combined with a voice practically screaming along. 

 

"Eat," Keith commands when he sits back on the couch, the box in his lap. 

 

"Gladly," Lance grins, his cheeks dusted a faint pink, likely from a mix of the alcohol and screaming. 

 

One pizza and a few more songs later, Lance's head has fallen back onto the couch, the top of it brushing the side of Keith's thigh. Lance's eyes are closed as he hums along to 'Breaking Free', and Keith doesn't hesitate in moving his hand to run through brunette strands. Lance stops humming for a moment when he feels fingers in his hair. He seems to be contemplating something, and before Keith can move his hand and apologize, there is a small weight on his thigh. Lance smiles up at him, a little lopsided, before continuing to hum. Lance's hair is soft in Keith's fingers, his head is a gentle pressure on Keith's legs. 

 

When the movie ends, Keith is almost certain Lance has fallen asleep. Keith thinks its comical how often Lance suggests they have movie marathons and how they rarely ever make it through the first one.

 

"Get up, the movie's over," Keith pokes Lance's cheek. Lance huffs, shifting slightly but making no move to stand. 

 

Keith sighs, carefully lifting Lance's head from his lap and resting it back on the couch. He begins collecting the few bottles that lie on the ground, carrying them to the kitchen. 

 

Quiet footsteps pad into the kitchen, and Keith turns to see Lance standing there, the empty pizza box in his hands. 

 

Keith nods, "Thanks." 

 

Lance smiles, too bright for Keith given the late hour, and sets the box down next to the garbage bin. 

 

Keith leans against the counter, staring at Lance as he slides around the kitchen.

 

"Should've know you're a lightweight," Keith chuckles under his breath. Lance stops sliding and stalks over to Keith, pointing a finger at him.

 

"'m not." Lance huffs, stumbling a bit as he crossed his arms. 

 

"Sure," Keith shakes his head, biting back a smile.

 

"Hmph," Lance slides away, continuing to spin around the kitchen. Keith considers stopping him before he slips into a wall, but the man seems to know exactly when to turn to avoid the corners of the kitchen. 

 

Lance is humming as he spins, and Keith can catch him singing words under his breath every time he goes past him. Keith can't seem to look away from Lance. 

 

Lance stops in front of Keith, sticking his hand out expectantly. Keith stares it, frowning. 

 

Lance reaches forward suddenly, grabbing Keith's hand in his. Keith yelps in surprise, and soon he's dancing around the kitchen with Lance. Lance is grinning, one hand in Keith's, the other on Keith's hip. 

 

"What are you doing?" Keith grunts, his free hand gripping onto Lance's arm. 

 

" _ We _ are dancing," Lance states, slowing down and instead swaying side to side slightly.

 

"There's no music," Keith states, staring at the floor.

 

Lance grins, and begins singing the same song he was humming before, louder this time. 

 

" _ Quisiera darte el mundo entero _ ," Lance continues swaying as he sings, the grin never falling from his cheeks. Keith stares at Lance's lips as he sings, the soft sound falling out of them makes his heart thrum. 

 

" _ La luna, el cielo, el sol, y el mar _ ," Lance's eyes are closed, eyelashes kissing his cheeks. 

 

_ "Regalarte las estrellas, en una caja de cristal, _ " 

 

Lance moves his hips slightly, humming a bit before continuing to sing. 

 

" _ Llevarte el espacio sideral, y volar como lo hace superman, _ " 

 

Keith's grip on Lance's arm loosens as they sway, smiling as Lance hums more. He seemed so at peace--lips turned up in a small smile, cheeks flushed the slightest bit, hair still a mess from falling asleep on the couch. 

 

_ He's beautiful. _

 

Lance stops swaying when he finishes the song, his hands falling to his side. Keith frowns at the loss of contact, and at the solemn look on Lance's face. 

 

"Lance?"

 

The taller man leans forward, his forehead resting on Keith's shoulder. "Mom used to sing me that song." 

 

Keith lifts a hand and tugs on the front of Lance's shirt, "Let's get you to bed." 

 

"'Kay." 

 

Lance falls asleep within minutes of getting into bed, and if Keith stayed there a few moments longer, watching the slow rise and fall of Lance's chest--ah, well it's not like it hurt anyone. 

 

///

 

"Bowling?"

 

"Yes, bowling!" Pidge seems even shorter than usual when they stand next to Hunk.

 

"Lance!" Keith yells into the house, "Do you want to go bowling?" 

 

Within moments, Lance is at the door.

 

"Yes." 

 

Keith snorts, reaching for his jacket and handing Lance his. 

 

"We can all ride in my car," Hunk states.

 

Keith nods, "Sounds good." 

 

It had become normal for Hunk and Pidge to drop by unannounced. Usually, the two stayed for movies and video games, but sometimes they all went out. 

 

Keith had grown to like their presence; Hunk was like a teddy bear, and was always able to calm Lance down when Keith couldn't. Pidge was--well they were sassy and Keith thought the amount of times they snatched both Lance and him was amazing. He had never really had friends before, and something about the way he fit in their group made him inexplicably happy. 

 

Lance grabs his cane before walking out and Keith doesn't hesitate in offering Lance his arm. Lance takes it, and Keith ignores the raised eyebrows on Hunk's face. 

 

Bowling, as Keith expects, is awful. Mostly because he cannot bowl for his life, and Lance is somehow a pro at it. 

 

It is only made better by the grin on his face every time Hunk yells "Nice strike!" 

 

"So," Pidge picks at the fries they had ordered, a smirk on their face as Lance goes up to bowl, Hunk cheering him on. 

 

"What," Keith huffs, taking a fry and frowning, "These are disgusting."

 

"Hey, shitty food is part of the Bowling Alley Charm." Pidge sticks a fry in Keith's face.

 

"Anyway, when are you going to tell him?" 

 

Keith chokes on his fry. 

 

"You okay, buddy?" Hunk asks.

 

Keith looks up and sees Lance standing there as well. "It's your turn, Keef." 

 

Keith stands, wiping his fingers on his jeans and grabbing his bowling ball. Naturally, it rolls into the gutter as soon as he releases it. 

 

He's waiting for the ball to come back when he sees someone in the distance, someone who definitely does not bowl, as far as he knows, and someone who is with a white-haired woman he's never seen before. 

 

"Shiro?" 

 

As if he somehow hears his name being whispered, Shiro turns around. He's a few alleys down, and once the initial shock passes across his face, he waves. 

 

Keith stares back. 

 

He had seen Shiro just a week earlier, dropping by the apartment on the way back from grocery shopping. Come to think of it, Shiro seemed to be in a bit of a rush then, and if Keith remembers correctly, he saw two mugs of coffee on the counter. 

 

"Sorry, guys, someone take my second turn." Keith says, walking towards his brother. 

 

The trio stares after him, confusion on their faces. 

 

"Where's he going?" Lance asks.  

 

"Dunno, but I think he's talking to someone?" Hunk squints.

 

"Some tall buff dude and this really pretty lady," Pidge stands on a chair to get a better look. Keith has his arms crossed, a small frown on his face as the buff man talks. 

 

"Oh, they're coming over here!" Pidge grins, hopping off the chair.

 

Keith's arms are still crossed when he returns, the two others close behind.

 

"Hi everyone, I'm Shiro, Keith's brother, and this is Allura, my girlfriend." 

 

"Nice to meet you!" Hunk is the first to offer a hand and Shiro shakes it. Hunk stares at the prosthetic arm and grins.

 

"That's pretty nifty," 

 

"Engineering majors," Pidge shakes her head, "Nerds, all of them."

 

Keith grumbles as the group says more greetings, shuffling over to stand next to Lance. 

 

"For some reason, I feel nervous to meet your brother. I wonder why." Lance whispers. 

 

Keith snorts, "Don't be. He's actually a huge nerd." 

 

"Hm," Lance shrugs. He steps forward, smiling. 

 

"Nice to meet you, Shiro, Allura," 

 

"Lance! I've heard so much about you," 

 

In that moment, Keith wants to punch his brother. 

 

"Why don't you guys join our game? We were about to start a new one." Hunk offers and Keith silently thanks the Gods for creating a human as good as Hunk. 

 

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Allura says, and Keith flinches at her accent. 

 

Hunk goes about setting up a new round, and Keith plops himself down on a seat. Lances sits next to him. 

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"Shiro never said he had a girlfriend."

 

"I'm sure he was just waiting for the right time to tell you." 

 

"Yeah, sure." 

 

Lance frowns, feeling like there was something he was missing. 

 

"Keith, what's really wrong?" 

 

Keith squeezes his eyes, fingernails dig into his skin as his hand turns into a fist. 

 

"Hey, why don't we go to the bathroom?" Lance stands up abruptly and then excuses the both of them. Hunk watches them walk away wearily, but Pidge nudges his arm, shaking her head. Hunk bites his lip nervously, but decides to let them go. He would ask Lance about it later.  

 

"Lead the way," Lance says, smiling. 

 

Keith takes Lance's arm, walking him to the restrooms. 

 

"So, you gonna tell me what's bothering you or?"

 

"Our parents died when we were younger." Keith spits out, staring at the tiled bathroom floor. 

 

“Oh,” Lance’s eyes widen. 

 

Keith grunts, "And Shiro...Shiro has always been there for me. He was only fifteen but he took care of me. We had no other family and got put into foster care, but as soon as he turned eighteen he made himself my legal guardian and we left." 

 

"Shiro's always been so amazing and I...I want to prove myself to him. But it's like he doesn't want me to. It's like he's hiding his life from me because he thinks I won't understand. He's always been like this but I thought that maybe if I...I could prove myself to be something better, that he would trust me. Guess he doesn't." Keith rambles, feeling out of breath when he finishes. 

 

Lance hasn't said anything and Keith is afraid to look up at him. 

 

"Keith," 

 

The soft way Lance says his name makes Keith feel lighter. 

 

"Hey man, I'm sure your brother trusts you," Lance rests a hand on Keith's shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. "He probably just wants to make sure that he and his girlfriend are serious before telling you." 

 

Keith sighs, "Maybe."

 

Lance smiles, and Keith doesn't know why it seems so forced, _ "Todo ira bien." _

 

Keith bites the inside of his cheek, committing to memory the way the Spanish phrase rolls off Lance's tongue, "What does that mean?" 

 

Lance hums, lowering his hand from Keith's shoulder and letting his fingers rest on Keith's wrist, "Everything will all be alright." 

 

Keith takes a deep breath, nodding, "Alright." 

 

"Why don't we go back out there? Maybe you'll like Allura." 

 

Keith frowns, "Doubt it." 

 

"Come on, Keef, for me?" Lance smiles a little wider and Keith can't find it in himself to say no. 

 

Keith groans, "Fine." 

 

Lance grins, "Alright, let's go! We'll get more fries, too." 

 

"Okay," Keith sighs, letting Lance's hand drop a little further to hold his own. 

 

"You have the lead the way, though." Lance chuckles.

 

"Right, right." Keith rolls his eyes, not letting go of Lance's hand as they walk to the food court. 

 

(It's warmth is incredibly calming.) 

 

///

 

Keith eyes Lance out of the corner of his eye, snorting when the man slams his forehead against the screen of his laptop. 

 

"I don't understand!" Lance groans, taking his headphones off his ears and letting them rest around his neck. 

 

"Do you want help?" Keith asks from the couch, flipping through another page of the book he's reading. 

 

"Unless you know how to integrate irrational numbers," Lance grunts, "When am I ever going to need to know how to do this in the future?" 

 

Keith shrugs, "Sorry, buddy, I never took Calculus."

 

Lance sighs, letting his head hang off the armrest of the couch. His legs stretch out and dangle over the other end of the couch "This is dumb."

 

"That's college for you." Keith chuckles, directing his attention back to his book. 

 

Lance sighs again, although this time it's quieter, and Keith doesn't like the way Lance's eyes are squeezed tight, his eyebrows creased. 

 

Keith hums, folding the edge of the page he's on before shutting the book. He tosses the book to the other end of the couch and then stands, walking over to the couch that Lance is draped across.

 

"Lemme see that," Keith pokes at Lance's sides, reaching for the laptop.

 

"Suit yourself, Keef." Lance grumbles, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm. 

 

Keith rolls his eyes, turning the laptop towards him. He sits cross legged on the floor, using Lance's stomach as a desk.

 

"Hm," Keith looks at the question on the screen, and then looks down at the keyboard.

 

"This is in Braille." Keith states abruptly. 

 

"No shit, Sherlock."

 

"I thought you said you weren't good at Braille," Keith mumbles, his hands running over the keys. 

 

"I can at least read the alphabet. They're a few other special keys on there, too." Lance huffs, sitting up. 

 

Keith grunts, keeping a grip on the laptop as Lance moves around. The man closes his eyes as he leans against the back of the couch, his shoulder pressing into the cushion. 

 

"Okay," Keith stares at the numbers and symbols on the screen, doing his best to understand what he's supposed to be doing.

 

"If you press this button," Lance mumbles, reaching forward, his wrist brushing Keith's knuckles as he searched the keyboard before finding the key he's look for, "A voice will read out the problem, as well as give you a brief overview on how to solve it. But, I still don't understand." 

 

"Can I use the headphones?" Keith asks, reaching for the pair that sit around Lance's neck. 

 

"Go for it," Lance takes them off, placing them in Keith's hands. 

 

Keith hums a thanks, placing the headphones over his ear and then hitting the button that Lance had pointed out. After hearing the explanation a few times, Keith thinks he understands it. 

 

He takes off the headphones so he can try and explain it to Lance, but when he looks at the man, he sees his eyes are closed, and his chest is moving up and down with steady breaths.

 

"Lance?" Keith whispers, poking the man's leg. 

 

The other grunts quietly in response.

 

"Are you asleep?"

 

"Why do people ask that? If I was asleep, it's not like I'd be able to answer. Shouldn't you ask 'Are you awake'?" Lance sighs, snuggling further back into the couch.

 

"I think I get the problem, do you want me to explain it?" Keith asks, ignoring Lance's small rant.

 

"Does it even matter," Lance mumbles, holding a pillow from the couch close to his chest. 

 

"What are you talking about?" Keith asks, frowning.

 

"It's not like--" Lance grunts, pulling the pillow closer to him, "It's not like I'm ever going to be anything." 

 

"Lance," Keith sighs, "Aren't you the one who said that losing your sight wasn't going to affect--"

 

"It's not my vision that's the problem!" Lance shouts, cutting Keith off. 

 

Keith stares at Lance, the way tears prickle at the edge of his eyes, the quiet sniffles, the tightening of his grip around the pillow and _ oh-- _

 

"Lance," Keith mumbles, carefully closing the laptop and placing it on the ground. 

 

"What?" Lance hisses through gritted teeth. 

 

"Lance," Keith says again. He lifts himself up onto the couch, sitting besides the other man. 

 

"What are you--"

 

"Lance," Keith reaches out slowly, placing a hand on Lance's knee. The man jumps a little at the contact. 

 

Keith has never been good at comforting people. Despite his ability to pick up on social cues, he never quite knew how to act on them. 

 

All he knows is that he wants Lance to stop crying--wants Lance to understand how amazing he is.

 

"Lance," Keith whispers, "Listen to me. This is worth it. You are worth it. You are going to get your degree and do amazing things.

 

"But I'm so--"

 

"Nope."

 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Lance whines. 

 

Keith chuckles, "Doesn't matter. You're not actually stupid, just a little dumb."

 

"Is that really any better?" Lance grumbles, shoving his face into the pillow. 

 

"Yes," Keith states, "Despite everything, you're still going. You're funny, even if your jokes are kinda lame, you're good at talking to people, and you're kind to the people you meet, as long as they're not me." 

 

"I can't tell if you're trying to make me feel better or worse," Lance laughs quietly, shaking his head.

 

Keith lifts his hand from Lance's knee, placing it on his arm instead, wishing he could find the words Lance needs to hear. 

 

Lance is--

 

Lance is smart, he is warm like a star, he has a horrible sense of humor but always seems to make Keith's chest ache from laughing.  He can beat Keith at Mario Kart but is awful at Chess, he can speak Spanish beautifully, and he can cook a hundred times better than Keith can. He likes to knit and loves the ocean and Keith can't explain why he finds those things so endearing. He can't explain why his heart swells in size when he simply looks at Lance, when Lance snorts at something Keith says, when Lance smiles so bright it feels like Keith will be blinded. 

 

"You are incredible, Lance." Keith manages to say. 

 

"Oh," Lance mumbles, a small smiling pulling at his lips.

 

"Yes, so, these classes? They do matter. You can do it, Lance. Your mother believed in you, and I do too." 

 

"Thanks, Keith," Lance sighs, some of the stress leaving his shoulders as he relaxes back into the couch.  

 

"Why don't we take a break? Get something to eat?" 

 

Lance nods, smiling wider now--his dimples visible, the corners of his eyes crinkling, 

 

"That sounds...good."

 

Keith tries to ignore the butterflies that threaten to fly out his throat. 

 

///

  
  


Lance has been sitting on the couch in the same position for an hour now and Keith has begun to worry. His knees are pulled into his chest, with his chin tucked in between them. If it weren't for his occasional blinking, Keith would've thought he was sleeping.

 

"Lance?"

 

The man doesn't respond. 

 

Keith stands, setting his book on the couch and walking over to the one where Lance sits. 

 

Keith sits besides him, frowning.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"It's August twelfth," Lance mumbles, and Keith's mind races as he tries to think of the significance of the date. It had been about two weeks since Lance's birthday. Keith had almost forgotten about it, only reminded when Hunk had texted him two days before, asking what Keith had gotten Lance. Hunk had thrown a small party, being sure to make all of Lance's favorite foods. He goes as far as inviting Shiro and Allura, and although Keith is upset at first, when he watches the gentle smiles Shiro gives Allura every time she laughs--well, how can he stay mad? 

 

In the end, Keith had handed Lance an audio copy of his favorite book. Lance had laughed, mostly because the book was about an alien invasion.

 

_ "Aliens aren't real, Keith," _

 

_ "'War of the Worlds' is a literary masterpiece, Lance!" _

 

Lance had seemed a little off since then, but Keith assumed it was because it was his first birthday without his mother. 

 

"What's August twelfth?" Keith eventually says when he can't think of the date's importance. 

 

"The Perseids," Lance mumbles. 

 

Keith wracks his mind and remembers hearing on the news that the meteor shower was supposed to peak the night of the twelfth. It was supposed to be the most amazing shower in the last decade or so. 

 

"I used to watch it every year. Back in Cuba, my cousins and I would stay up till three am just to see the meteors. I remember making a wish on every single one that shot by." There's something in Lance's gaze--a mix of melancholy and yearning. 

 

"When we moved here, mom would be awake with me. Even after I lost my sight, we would sit outside and she would squeeze my hand every time one shot across the sky." 

 

Lance pulls his knees in further, burying his face. 

 

"I'll watch it with you," Keith states, resting a hand on Lance's back. 

 

"It's not the same, though, is it?" Lance mutters, "Even with my mom, it's not like I could see them. And I'll never be able to again." 

 

Keith frowns when Lance's shoulder begins to shake slightly. 

 

"What else?" Keith asks.

 

"What?" Lance turns his head to face Keith, his eyes starting to wet.

 

"What else do you wish you could see?" 

 

Lance blinks, slowly, and time freezes for Keith. 

 

"A lot of things." Lance murmurs. "The northern lights. The Grand Canyon. A solar eclipse. The Milky Way." 

 

Keith's hand finds its way into Lance's hair, fingers running through the strands there. Lance sighs. 

 

"What's something you've always wanted to do but never did? Something you want to feel, not see?" Keith asks. 

 

Lance hums quietly, "I dunno."

 

"Anything at all." 

 

"I've always wanted to do one of this 'Eat this in x minutes and get it free!' challenges." Lance states, shrugs. 

 

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes at how  _ Lance _ that is. "Of course you would. Something more exciting?"

 

Lance sticks out his tongue, "That is something exciting. But..."

 

"But?" Keith raises an eyebrow, humming curiously. 

 

Lance smiles, almost sheepishly. "I've never been on a roller coaster."

 

Keith grins, the gears in his mind already turning.

 

"I can work with that." 

 

///

 

The nearest amusement park is an hour drive away. Keith calls the park before getting tickets, being assured that they are very accommodating to people with any disabilities. 

 

Lance doesn't hesitate in plugging his phone into the aux in Keith's car, blasting the Top 40 and singing along. Keith taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along quietly. 

 

By the time they pull into the parking lot, Lance is shaking with excitement. 

 

"You ready?" Keith asks, holding Lance's door open.

 

Lance grins as he puts on dark glasses before stepping out of the car. He takes Keith's arm and holds his cane in the other. 

 

"I want to go the biggest, tallest, and most terrifying ride first." 

 

Keith snorts, "Sure you won't be too scared?" 

 

Lance grins, "You should be asking yourself that." 

 

The amusement park is large, with both rollercoasters and a waterpark. The two of them jump into line for the largest ride first. Keith stares at it, describing the design to Lance.

 

"Okay, there's a huge drop, and then a bunch of turns." The people on the ride currently are screaming and Keith flinches, but Lance--Lance is grinning. 

 

Keith helps Lance get into the seat before setting down his cane off to the side near a few other bags. Keith buckles himself in next to Lance, chuckling at the excitement on his face. 

 

The ride operators check to make sure everyone is buckled before giving the thumbs up. Lance's grip on the handles tightens as the coaster starts to move. 

 

"Do you want to hold my hand?" Keith teases.

 

"No, but you can hold mine if you need to." Lance retorts.

 

Keith snorts, but almost takes Lance up on his offer. By the time the coaster has made its way to the top, Keith has steadily become more terrified. 

 

"Okay, we're going down now--" 

 

The coaster lurches forward and they're shooting downwards. Keith is screaming, his hands gripping onto to the bars over his chest, and he almost doesn't glance over to see Lance--

 

Lance is laughing, his head is thrown back and he's grinning, letting out a loud "Woohoo!" as the coaster takes a sharp right turn. 

 

The wind makes Lance hair fly in every direction, and his eyes are squeezed tight as the coaster speeds forward. Every sharp turn makes him laugh again, and Keith manages to block out every sound but it. 

 

Keith's fear drops away and his stomach starts to turn for a different reason. 

 

_ He's beautiful. _

 

When the coaster comes to a stop, Lance has a grin so wide Keith wonders if his cheeks hurt. 

 

"That was...amazing!" Lance is jumping around in his seat, and Keith has to catch his breath. 

 

"Yeah," Keith mumbles, "Amazing." 

 

Lance drags them around the rest of the park, and they go on every ride at least two times. Lance says the first ride they went on is his favorite. 

 

"I think it gave me whiplash," Keith rubs the back of his neck.

 

"What are you, an old man?" Lance snickers. 

 

Keith grunts, plopping down on a bench, pulling Lance down with him. 

 

"Yes." 

 

Lance snorts, stretching before settling onto the bench. 

 

Lance hums, shuffling close to Keith so their thighs touch, "Thanks, by the way."

 

"I don't know why you're thanking me," Keith stares at where his skin touches Lance's.

 

"For everything," Lance rests his head on Keith's shoulder. 

 

Keith tenses up, but soon relaxes. A family of four walks past them, the mother holding the hand of her daughter, while the father carries the son on his back. Keith notes the smile on their faces, and something in his chest stirs.  

 

"You know, there's something you've never asked me." Lance mumbles, his voice barely audible. 

 

"What's that?" 

 

"How I lost my sight," 

 

Keith tilts his head to the side, bumping it against Lance's, "Hm." 

 

"Do you want to know?" 

 

Keith's chest tightens at the shakiness of Lance's voice. In all honesty, Keith does want to know. Keith wants to know all of Lance--he's learned so much so far and he wants to keep learning. He wants to unfold every crinkled edge, wants to open every closed door, wants to know the cause of every smile and laugh, the cause of every grimace and teardrop. 

 

Keith wants Lance to happy; he wants Lance to feel safe with him, to feel like he can open his heart and know that Keith will always be careful with it. 

 

"Do you want me to?"

 

Lance takes a deep breath, and Keith feels him nodding his head against his shoulder. 

 

"Yeah, I think so." 

 

Keith glances at Lance's hands, sees them folded on top of each other in his lap, and places his own hand on them. Keith presses his lips against the top of Lance's head, and hopes that Lance can tell he is smiling, reassuring him that everything would be alright. 

 

When Keith speaks, Lance can feel his lips moving. It's a gentle pressure, and Lance hums at the movement. 

 

"Then, I want to know." 

 

Lance shifts slightly, so his head is tucked under Keith's chin. 

 

"My mom met my dad in Cuba. He was an American student who was studying abroad." Lance's breath is warm against Keith's neck as he speaks. His hand clenches and unclenches, fingernails digging into palms each time. Keith runs a finger over Lance's knuckles, nodding gently as to encourage him. 

 

"Mom used to say dad would always come by the family shop and ask her out. She finally said yes when he sang to her. She said it was because she thought his Spanish accent was awful in an endearing way." Lance laughs shakily. Keith can imagine Lance's father; probably tall like his son, with bright blue eyes, like the ocean or sky.  

 

"When his year in Cuba was up, he went back to America. But, not before mom got pregnant." Lance grunts when he says this, frowning. Keith moves his hand to wrap it around Lance's wrists gently, his index and middle finger resting on the tendon near his wrist. The heartbeat there is slow, and Keith gives the wrist a small squeeze. The ends of Lance's lips quirk up the slightest at the gesture before settling back down into a frown. He takes a small breath before continuing. 

 

"My abuela was mad, said that my mother had committed a sin, and kicked her out. But, my mom's big brother said she did nothing wrong. She moved in with him and his wife, and I was born a few months later." 

 

"For the first few years of my life, I didn't know my father. My uncle and aunt were always so kind to me, and my cousins were my best friends." Keith doesn't see it, but he can feel the slight grin on Lance's face as he recalls his home. 

 

"We lived right by the beach," Lance hums, the sound reverberating through Keith. "We would swim almost every day. Tia Sophie would always complain about how she kept finding sand everywhere." Lance chuckles at the memory.

 

"Sounds like you haven't changed much," Keith says, smiling into Lance's hair. He makes a mental note to look for old photo books to see more of what Lance was like as a child. 

 

"Guess so," Lance chuckles, clearing his throat a bit before continuing. 

 

"My mom would tell me stories about my dad, and she would show me pictures, but I didn't meet him till I was six." 

 

"I remember the doorbell ringing and my mom crying and seeing this tall man I had only seen in photographs. My mom was quick to agree to moving to the States with him."  Lance frowns as he says this. 

 

"For a while, we were happy. I missed Cuba and my friends, but I finally had a father. Even though the kids at school teased me about my accent and my skin color, we were happy. My dad taught me English, and my accent slowly went away." Lance sighs. 

 

"My mom set about getting her degree from a local community college and she became a Spanish teacher. I didn't really know what my dad did, I always thought he was some businessman or something." 

 

"Once I got into High School, things started getting bad. Dad lost his job and mom was the only one supporting us. He tried looking looking for more work, but when he couldn't find any, he started drinking." Lance turns his head to the side and buries it further into Keith's neck, his breath faint on Keith's collarbone. 

 

Keith's frown deepens; he had heard too many stories like this, knew too many kids from when he was growing up who knew the same life Lance knew. And he knew that most of those stories ended awfully, putting the kids into the same situation that Keith used to be in. 

 

"Mom...mom was so strong. She never complained, never did anything, she let him spit on her and yell at her and she just took it all. When I asked her why, she said she couldn't explain it. She said it was because she  _ loved _ him." 

 

Keith notices the way Lance seems to spit out the word 'loved'. He lets go of Lance's wrists, letting his palm lie flat on the back of his hand. Lance's fingers uncurl, and Keith smiles at how they are only slightly longer than his.

 

"I got into a local college and I did my best to visit whenever I could. During the Fall semester of my sophomore year, I got a phone call from my mom. She was crying and I couldn't tell what she was saying. I went home as fast as I could and--" Lance chokes on his words. Keith shifts his hand, letting his fingers fill the spaces between Lance's. 

 

"He had never hit her before. He was always all talk but he never--he never touched her. That's part of the reason she stayed, I think." 

 

"When I went inside, she was on the floor of the living room, her arms over her head. My dad--he had a bat in his hand. He was yelling something--something about her being a terrible wife, and she was crying, and I didn't know what I was doing--" For the first time in the few months he's known Lance, Keith sees him struggling to find the right words. 

 

"I ran towards him and tried to get the bat away but I couldn't. He was too strong and he--"

 

"I don't know what exactly happened but the bat hit the back of my head and when I woke up, I couldn't see." Lance's eyes are shut tight and Keith can see tears threatening to leak from the corners. Keith lifts the hand that doesn't rest on Lance's, slowly running his thumb over brunette lashes. Lance breathes unevenly, his chest shaking the slightest bit. 

 

"I heard my mom's voice first. She was holding my face and crying and wouldn't stop apologizing. The doctor said that there was a lot of bleeding, and that my visual cortex was severely damaged." Lance sighs, "The chance of me getting my vision back was essentially nonexistent." 

 

"My mom finally broke it off with my father,  and after he got sentenced, we moved to a town closer to the school where my mom taught." 

 

"I had to adjust. I was terrified at first. It was all just a weird blurry image, like I was looking at the world through a pair of smudge sunglasses, but no matter how hard I try to clean them, I can't see any clearer." 

 

"I couldn't make out shapes or people or colors anymore. I couldn't see the ocean or the stars. And there were still so many things I had yet to see, and I would never be able to see them." Lance bites his lips, his fists clenching again. Keith closes his hand over Lance's, squeezing it reassuringly. 

 

"Hunk and Pidge helped me a lot. I learned Braille and even signed up for those online classes. My mom finally trusted me to leave the house and get around on my own and then--" 

 

"My mom was driving back from the store when she got into an accident. The report said she lost control of the car because of the heavy rain. I remember getting the phone call and losing it. She had died on impact, apparently from a head injury." Lance doesn't try to stop himself from crying anymore, and Keith lets the man bury his face into the front of his shirt. 

 

"Hunk was away at camp but came home as fast as he could. He helped organize the funeral." Lance's voice is muffled against Keith's chest; Keith's free hand comes up to run through Lance's hair, holding his head to his chest gently. Keith's shirt is warm and wet with tears, but he doesn't mind. 

 

"It was like--I had Hunk and Pidge, but they bad their own lives, and I couldn't expect them to be able to drop everything for me. I was suddenly so alone. I had talked to her just that morning but now I wouldn't ever get to speak to her again. I'd never get to hear her sing again or eat her cooking or be hugged by her--" Lance makes a sound like he's choking back a sob and Keith feels like his chest is going to burst. Lance continues crying, his breaths coming out uneven. Keith runs fingers through soft hair, wanting to whisper some sort of quiet reassurance but remaining unsure of what to say to this man who deserves the entire universe. 

 

Lance's breathing eventually evens out, his sobs fading into quiet sniffles. "This was all just a few weeks before you arrived. In her will, she said that she wanted to have someone watch over me." 

 

"I was so mad at first. It was like my mom thought she could leave me as long as she left someone else in her place." Lance's face falls into a frown, brows furrowed. 

 

"But, I know she just wanted me to be safe. She loved me so much. She always worried about me, hell, I bet even if I wasn't blind she would've wanted me to have a caretaker." Lance sighs then, laughing quietly. The sound seems to twinkle, reaching Keith's ears and settling into his chest. 

 

"Although, I'm happy it ended up being you." The sincerity of Lance's voice makes Keith smile, and any feeling of uncertainty, of not knowing where to belong or how to belong or even if there is anyway he belongs, drifts away. Keith knows that wherever Lance is--well, that's where he wants to be.

 

Lance turns his hand over and intertwines his fingers with Keith's. Keith gives his hand a small squeeze.

 

"I'm happy it was me, too." 

 

Lance hums as the response, nudging Keith's chin with the top of his head, "Okay, enough being emo for today, let's get ice cream."

 

Keith snorts, "Lance,"

 

"I'm sure there are non-dairy options," Lance teases. 

 

"Shut up."

 

Lance stands, letting go of Keith's hand when he does, "Try and make me."

 

Keith sighs, "Fine. Let's just get ice cream." 

 

Lance is grinning now, one of the grins where it reaches his eyes, and leaves Keith wanting to poke the dimples that settle into his cheek, "Good." 

 

Keith takes one of Lance's arms when he stands, huffing at the excited pull towards the opposite direction of the ice cream stall. 

 

"Hey, Lance?" Keith tugs the man in the correct direction, chuckling at the grunt he gives. 

 

"Yeah?" 

 

"You really are amazing," Keith stops walking when he states this and Lance almost trips. 

 

Lance freezes, turning around to face Keith. Keith scans his face for any discernible emotion, and is worried when he's met with nothing.

 

But the blank expression soon turns into another one of Lance's cheek-splitting smiles, and Lance is taking a step towards Keith, his arms outstretched, and Keith doesn't hesitate in walking into them. 

 

Warm arms wrap around him and Keith relishes in the scent of Lance--something gentle and strong and so undeniably Lance that it makes Keith's heart beat a hundred miles an hour. 

 

"You really think that?" Lance's voice is a whisper in Keith's ear. 

 

Keith wishes he knew the way to make  Lance's insecurities and uncertainties about himself disappear. 

 

"Yeah,"

 

Because Lance deserved the entire universe, really, deserved every single star and planet that existed within it. He didn't deserve any of the awful things the world threw at him, but yet he dealt with it all. He still smiles and laughs and he's still as bright as a supernova--

 

"Amazing."

 

Keith had no problem in saying it until Lance believed it. 

 

Lance holds onto Keith's arm while they walk to the ice cream stall, rambling about the new game Pidge just finished coding for him.  

 

There's a fire that has been burning in the pit of Keith's stomach since the day he met Lance, and Keith wonders how long it will be before it ends up burning him. 

 

///

 

Despite popular belief, Lance does not hate Keith.

 

Even though sometimes Keith leaves doors open and sometimes Lance stubs his toe on them, even though Keith moves things--like the coffee table and kitchen stools--and Lance trips over them, even though Keith always beats him in chess, even though Keith always burns his eggs, 

 

Lance doesn't hate him. 

 

What bothers Lance is Keith's purpose.

 

Or, lack thereof.

 

Lance never questioned Keith, not since the first day they met and Lance had known right away that Keith felt the need to prove something. 

 

(Not since Keith had mumbled the words "I want to prove something to him.") 

 

At first, Lance didn't like Keith. 

 

He didn't like the way Keith was so soft, so gentle, like with a single touch, Lance would shatter, like Lance was some fragile glass vase. He didn't like how he would trip and Keith would suddenly be there, stuttering out endless apologies. 

 

But now, Keith was rougher, at least around the edges. He elbowed Lance when they did the dishes, and he laughed when Lance walked into walls. 

 

Lance still found him to be soft in the middle, like when Lance would curl up on the couch with an audiobook, eyes shut to block out the light. Keith would sit beside Lance, reading his own book and letting his fingers lazily run through Lance's hair. 

 

Lance liked Keith, he liked watching movies with Keith, liked it when Keith read to him--his voice more calming than any audio tape. 

 

Lance didn't want to think about the  _ why _ anymore. He didn't just want Keith to stay. He wanted to be Keith's reason for staying. 

 

Lance wanted to believe Keith had stuck around because he wanted too, not because he felt like he needed to. He wanted to believe Keith's laugh was genuine, that Keith might feel something for him. 

 

He wanted to believe Keith cared. 

 

But he can't stop hearing Keith's words in the back of his mind, that Keith said he has to prove to Shiro he was really worth something, he can't stop remembering how Keith was hiding something, how Keith didn't really care, that he was just there because life had tossed him around so much he needed some way to prove he was good. 

 

Lance wants to believe, but he's also afraid to.

 

So, he shoves whatever feelings have begun to flow through his veins back into his heart.

 

He knows they will burst out sooner or later, but for now, Lance would do his best to keep them locked there. 

 

///

 

"Hey, Keith?" Lance asks one day, as they're sitting on the couch. Keith has a hand combing through Lance's hair, the other flips through a copy of  _ The Time Keeper _ as he reads aloud. 

 

"Do you want me to read that part again?" Keith asks, because that's usually what Lance requests when he interrupts Keith's reading. 

 

"What do I look like?" Lance says instead. 

 

Keith's hand pauses in Lance's hair. 

 

"Huh?"

 

"Like, I kinda remember. I have brown hair and blue eyes, but can you tell me anyway? I don't want to forget."

 

Something about the way Lance says  _ forget _ makes Keith heartache. 

 

"You're right, you have brown hair." Keith begins, tugging lightly on Lance's bangs, "and blue eyes. They're like the ocean," Keith doesn't mention how they are slightly grey as well.

 

"Your skin is caramel colored," Keith hums, running a thumb along Lance's jawline, "And it's very smooth." 

 

"You're tall, maybe even taller than me--"

 

"Hah!"

 

"Oh, shut up." Keith pinches Lance's cheek when he laughs. 

 

"You think I'm pretty, don't you?" Lance giggles, closing his eyes as he grins. 

 

Keith hums, resting the pad of his thumb on Lance's eyelids and making a downward sweeping motion so Lance's eyelashes brush against it. He continues moving his thumb down Lance's face, feeling the rise of Lance's nose under it; his thumb pauses at the bump in the middle of the bridge, the one that Lance had confessed was due to a fight he got into during high school. Keith can count the barely visible freckles that are scattered on Lance's cheeks, he can almost make constellations out of them. 

 

"Yeah," Keith mumbles breathlessly, "You're beautiful." 

 

The whispered confession makes Lance's heart thrum quickly--he was not expecting such an honest reply. 

 

"Oh," He manages to say.

 

Keith clears his throat, lifting his hand off of Lance's nose and resting it on the couch instead, "Um, do you want me to keep reading?"

 

Lance coughs, taking a small breath and doing his best to calm his racing heart, "Uh, yeah, keep going."

 

Keith clears his throat again before continuing to read,

 

_ "It is never too late or never too soon. It is when--" _

 

///

 

Keith stares at the red fabric that has been shoved into his hands, brows furrowed. 

 

"What's this?" 

 

"Happy birthday," Lance states, grinning ear to ear. 

 

Keith continues to stare and Lance snorts, lifting the fabric from Keith's hand and slowly wrapping it around Keith's neck and shoulders. 

 

"It's a scarf, made by yours truly." 

 

Keith swallows nervously, his palms sweaty; Lance is still smiling, all dimples and pearly whites, and his eyes are brighter than Keith has ever seen them and suddenly all the feelings that have been piling up for the last three months seem to collapse and the fire in his chest seems to set every inch of Keith's body aflame and he can't stop himself from grabbing Lance's shirt and kissing him. 

 

Lance's lips are just as soft as Keith had imagined and Keith feels himself turning into mush. 

 

When Keith pulls away, however, he notices the blank expression on Lance's face, and his heart sinks. 

 

"Lance--" Keith wants to say something, wants to explain that he  _ loves _ Lance, Gods, that's what it was, he loves him so much it hurts. 

 

"What was that?" Lance frowns, taking a step back. He has a hand raised to his lips, fingers touching the spot Keith had kissed a moment before, brows furrowed in confusion. 

 

"Lance, I--"

 

"Why would you kiss me?" Lance raises his voice, his hand falling into a fist at his side. Keith stares at it, the way blue painted nails dig into tan skin, and he fights the urge to reach forward and pry away each finger. 

 

"Because--" And despite knowing exactly why he kissed Lance, Keith doesn't know how to say it, is afraid to say it, especially when Lance is looking at Keith like he just punched him in the gut. 

 

"Leave," Lance clenches his jaw, inhaling sharply through his nose. 

 

Keith shakes his head, "I can't just--" 

 

"I said, leave!" Lance shouts. His fists tighten and Keith is worried that if his nails keep digging into his skin, he’ll begin to bleed. 

 

Keith is silent, staring at the subtle shaking of Lance's shoulders, and he wants to reach forward, but he's afraid of what will happen. 

 

"Leave," Lance says again, in a voice so quiet it leaves Keith's legs feeling weak and it takes all his power to not fall apart right there. How is he supposed to leave Lance?

 

Lance, who was as a bright as all the stars in the universe; Lance, who was full of life and warmth and love; Lance, who had been to the ends of the Earth and back again and had every reason to hate the world but didn’t; Lance, who was strong and beautiful and who Keith loved--

 

Lance, whose eyes are shut tight, tears pooling at the corners; Lance, whose fists are clenched tightly at his sides; Lance, who Keith had hurt, who Keith had made feel this way--

Keith grabs his phone and his keys, walking out of the house. 

 

He dials Shiro's number as soon as he's in the car. His brother picks up after a few rings, surprised when Keith doesn't wait for him to say hello and just says "I'm coming over." 

 

Keith hangs up, about to toss his phone aside when he goes to his contacts and types out a quick message to Hunk. He hits send before putting his phone away and speeding to Shiro's apartment.

 

///

 

Shiro stares at his phone, frowning at the beeping dial tone. Keith had sounded more frantic than Shiro had heard him in years, and his first concern is that something happened to Lance. But, if that was the case, Keith would've said something. His second guess is that maybe something happened  _ with _ Lance. 

 

It's minutes later when there's a pounding at his door. Shiro opens it, staring at the man in front of him and sighing.

 

"What did you do?"

 

The fact that Keith doesn't say anything, just stands there with his head and shoulders drooping, causes Shiro to worry. 

 

"Keith?"

 

"I think I messed up," Keith says under his breath, and within seconds Keith is crying, something Shiro hasn't seen him do since the day their parents died.

 

Shiro doesn't hesitate in pulling his little brother into a hug, ruffling his hair. "It's okay, we'll figure this out."

 

Keith grabs onto the front of Shiro's shirt, his hands clenched into fists as he sobs.

 

"It'll be okay."

 

///

 

Hunk panics when he sees Keith's text, a short 'please check on lance' and panics even more when Lance does not pick up his phone. He shoots a text to Pidge before getting into his car and going to Lance's. He uses his spare key to get into the house, shouting Lance's name as he storms in.

 

"Where are you?" Hunk mumbles under his breath. He checks downstairs before running up the stairs, opening Lance's door and, upon finding it empty, checking Keith’s room. 

 

He finds Lance curled up on top of the red blankets, eyes shut tight, headphones pulled on over his ears. 

 

Hunk stomps loudly, and Lance jumps a little, grunting before taking off his headphones.

 

"Hunk?" Lance knows it's him because Pidge always just jumps onto him while screaming, but Hunk likes to let Lance know he's there. 

 

"Buddy, I called you like ten times!" Hunk cries, rushing over to his friend. 

 

Lance sniffles, wiping his nose, "My phone's downstairs." 

 

"What happened?" Hunk sits on the bed, resting a hand on Lance's back. Lance shivers and Hunk feels a surge of protectiveness for his friend. 

 

"I dunno," Lance mumbles. 

 

"Lance," Hunk frowns, his voice carrying concern.

 

"KeithkissedmeandIfreakedout," Lance rambles, burying his face into a blanket.

 

Hunk stares at him, silent for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. 

 

"That's all?"

 

Lance whines, his voice coming out muffled from beneath the blanket. "I yelled at him to get out, Hunk! And he did!" 

 

Hunk sighs, rubbing his friend's back, "Okay, so, Keith finally recognized his feelings and acted on them. I thought you liked him too?"

 

Lance huffs, "Why would you think that?"

 

Hunk snorts, "What kinda best friend would I be if I can't even tell when you're pining?" 

 

Lance groans, pulling the blanket tighter over his face. "Doesn't matter. Keith hates me now. He's gonna quit and I'll never see him again and it's whatever." 

 

Hunk rolls his eyes, tugging on the blanket so Lance doesn't suffocate himself. "I don't think he hates you." 

 

Lance sighs, "Oh, really?"

 

Hunk hums, "He's the one who told me to come check on you."

 

"Oh," Lance tugs the blanket over his head before groaning. 

 

"Ugh, who just  _ kisses  _ someone?" 

 

Hunk chuckles, "Keith does, apparently." 

 

Lance sighs, trying to pull the blanket off his head.  "I don't know what to do, Hunk."

 

"Well, why did you freak out?" Hunk asks. Lance manages to free himself from the comforter before flopping back down. 

 

"I--" Lance sighs, now lying with his head in Hunk’s lap. "I don't know, just, I don't think he really--I don't think he really likes me that way?" 

 

Hunk rests a warm hand on Lance’s forehead, "Lance." 

 

"What?" Lance grunts, crossing his arms. 

 

"Do we need to have an intervention again?" Hunk has that motherly tone of concern in his voice, and Lance would have laughed if he didn't feel like crying.

 

"Because I already texted Pidge and we both know they'll be more than happy to sit on you until you know how loved you are."

 

Lance remembers how many hugs Hunk had given him last time he had a breakdown, how he couldn't stop muttering how useless he felt. His friends had a weird way of cheering him up, but it worked.

 

This, however, was different. 

 

"No, it's just--" Lance runs a hand through his hair, "It's Keith. He's..." Lance doesn't want to tell Hunk what Keith told him, he feels like it was something meant to be kept between the two them, something to not be whispered to anyone else.

 

Hunk, bless his beautiful soul, seems to understand that Lance can’t tell him everything. 

 

"Okay, just tell me, do you like him?" 

 

Lance doesn't hesitate in answering, "Yes." 

 

"Then, how about I call him, and you guys can talk it out?" 

 

"But--"

 

"Do you want things to stay this way? Or do you want him in your life?" Hunk places a hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

 

"I can't even imagine a life without him."

 

"Then, I'm calling." Hunk pats Lance’s head, grinning down at his best friend. 

 

Lance sighs, reaching up to find Hunk’s nose and giving it a gentle squeeze. "...Thanks, Hunk."

 

Hunk lifts Lance’s head off his lap and onto a pillow before standing and taking out his phone, "I'm always here for you." 

 

Lance grins, the tight knot in his chest already beginning to loosen, "You're the best bro."

 

Hunk smiles, shaking his head, "Nah, that’s you!”

 

///

 

Keith sits on the couch with his knees pulled into his chest when his phone rings. He pulls it out hastily, picking it up without even checking the caller ID.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hey, Keith," 

 

Keith sighs, a little disappointed.

 

"Hi, Hunk."

 

Hunk laughs lightly on the other end, "Don't shoot the messenger."

 

"Sorry," Keith mumbles, hoping he didn't sound too rude. Hunk was his friend, too. 

 

"It's okay," Keith can hear the smile in Hunk's voice. "Just calling to say Lance is okay and wants to talk. You should come back here when you're ready."

 

Keith's grip on the phone tightens, and all he sees in his mind is Lance's hurt expression telling him to get out.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Hunk chuckles, "Yes, I'm sure. I think he has a reason for pushing you away. You should hear him out."

 

"Of course," Keith says. 

 

"Alright, I'll stay here for a bit. Take your time, Keith." 

 

"Thanks, Hunk."

 

"And, Keith?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Lance really cares about you." 

 

Keith bites his lips, smiling, "Thanks." 

 

"Okay, I'll see you later, Keith."

 

"See you, Hunk."

 

When Keith puts the phone down, Shiro is standing near the doorway of the kitchen, two mugs of tea in his hand.

 

"You good?" He asks, walking over to sit on the couch besides Keith. 

 

Keith nods, unfolding his legs before accepting the mug Shiro offers, "Yeah, I'm good." 

 

Shiro smiles, taking a sip of his tea. 

 

"You think things are gonna be alright?" 

 

Keith sighs, "I hope so."

 

"You really like him, don't you?" Shiro has a tiny smirk on his face, but Keith doesn't bother shoving him or telling him to shut up.  

 

"Yeah." 

 

"I really do." 

 

///

  
  


Keith opens the door of the home carefully, locking it behind him. Shiro had offered to drive him back, but Keith insisted he needed the fifteen minute drive to himself to think. 

 

He didn't think much, actually, mostly just of Lance and what he could possibly want to talk about. Was he going to say Keith should quit? That he didn't like Keith that way? That Keith should probably leave?

 

No--no, Lance isn't like that. Lance would probably smile at him, would probably insist that they could stay friends, that Keith could keep being his caretaker.

 

But, Keith didn't want that. 

 

Keith didn't want to be Lance's caretaker. 

 

Keith wanted to be there for Lance, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. 

 

"Keith?"

 

Keith hears Hunk's voice coming from the living room. He shuffles towards it wearily, his mind still racing. 

 

Lance is sitting on the couch, a mug of something in his hands. Hunk is sitting next to him, a hand resting on Lance's back. 

 

Keith clears his throat, "Hey."

 

Hunk nods, standing up, but not before whispering something to Lance. Keith swears he sees Lance's cheeks tint red.

 

"I'll be outside," Hunk pats Keith on the shoulder before stepping away. 

 

Keith swallows nervously. 

 

"Lance? Can I sit next to you?"

 

Lance nods, "Yeah." 

 

Keith walks over to the couch, sitting down. He crosses and uncrosses his legs three times, eyes darting around the room despite already knowing every feature of it. 

 

"So," Keith starts, staring at the back of his hands. His palms rest on his knees and feel awfully sweaty. He wonders if Lance can sense his nerves.  "I'm, uh, sorry." 

 

Lance sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

 

"So am I."

 

Keith stares at him blankly. "Why?"

 

"For kicking you without even explaining why."

 

"I'm the one who kissed you out of nowhere."

 

"I shouldn't have overreacted." 

 

Keith stares at Lance's hand and wonders if it would he alright to reach out and hold it.

 

"I like you, Lance. I like you a lot." 

 

Lance seems to tense up at this.

 

"Do you?"

 

Keith frown, "Of course. Lance, I've told you, you're amazing-"

 

"This isn't about me!" Lance groans, burying his face in his hands.

 

Keith stares at him, confused. "But-"

 

Lance sighs, shaking his head, "Do you remember what I said the first time we met?" 

 

Keith closes his eyes trying to remember, "You said a lot of things." 

 

"I told you the reasons I think people become caretakers." 

 

"Oh," Keith doesn’t know how he almost forgot.

 

(Well, actually, he does know how he forgot--it has something to do with blue eyes and caramel skin.)

 

Lance sighs, "And I knew, you were doing it because you thought you could make yourself a better person."

 

"Lance--" 

 

"I'm not mad just...I didn't care at first. Mom wanted you here and I was okay with it. It wasn't like having you around made my life any harder."

 

"But then, you were--you were so much more than I thought you would be. You, ugh, you're funny and lame and actual a huge fucking nerd and I didn't think--I didn't think I'd end up falling in love with you." Lance groans, his face falling into his hands. 

 

Keith stares at Lance.

 

"But--"

 

"And then I realized you wouldn't ever love me like that. You were here for a different reason. You wanted to prove something to your brother. You didn't...you didn't really need me. It was like, ugh, I dunno, like I would somehow redeem you." 

 

Keith reaches out then, grabbing Lance's hand. "Lance, listen." 

 

"You aren't entirely wrong." Keith flinches at the expression on Lance's face, but he knows he has to keep talking. He needs Lance to understand exactly how he feels.  

 

"Our parents died in a car accident. Me and Shiro were in the backseat when it happened. Shiro's arm had to be amputated but I--I got away without a scratch." Keith has to close his eyes, afraid if he keeps them open he'll see pity on Lance's face. 

 

"The worst part was, the crash was my fault. I was crying over something stupid and my mom was trying to calm me down and dad turned around for a second and then a semi hit us--"

 

Keith doesn't realize his voice is shaking until Lance has a hand on his back, rubbing small circles into it. Keith takes a deep breath, calming himself before continuing. 

 

"Me and Shiro got separated in foster care. He was 15 at the time and I was 10. We Skyped and texted nearly every day, and he became my legal guardian three years later." 

 

"While I was in foster care I...I wasn't the best kid. I picked fights and got into them and punched some people and got punched."  

 

"Shiro got me out, and we moved away. He picked up a bunch of part time jobs so I could get through school. After I graduated High School, I didn't go to college. It just wasn't for me. I started working part time as well. Eventually, I took a caretaking course."

 

"You're right. At first, I wanted to better. I wanted Shiro to see that I was capable of doing good, that he didn't waste his time on me. I wanted to right all the wrongs I did. I thought maybe, if I did this, that the world would be less mad at me, and maybe I could feel less guilty."

 

"I already told you, I only took care of one person before you. Her name's Allison, she's an elderly woman."

 

"I--I did everything I was supposed, but she still got sick. There wasn't anything I could do. She was getting old and losing her memory and she had to go to a nursing home." Keith takes a deep breath, “She forgot who I was.”

 

Lance’s hand pauses for a moment on Keith’s back. Keith opens his mouth again to tell Lance he shouldn’t apologize, but before he can, Lance’s hand is tugging at the ends of his hair. 

 

“I can’t imagine what you must have felt,” 

 

Keith shuts his eyes and does his best to shove away the memory of dark lost eyes staring into his. Lance nudges Keith’s thigh with his own and the hand that isn’t in Keith’s hair finds its way onto his lap. Keith doesn’t realize his own hands are clenched into fists until Lance’s hand covers them. 

 

"After that, I stayed with Shiro again. I thought that caretaking wasn't for me. I was scared that no matter what I did, there was no way for me to really be good. I didn't feel any different than I did before I started."

 

"And then, I met you." Keith smiles, turning to face Lance as he says this. Keith lifts a hand to rest on Lance’s cheek, a thumb running over the splatter of freckles there. 

 

"I was reluctant to do it again, but Shiro told me I should. I also needed money, because I was planning on going to school in order to get a degree." 

 

"You made things easy. I was scared at first, I was certain I'd do something wrong and something would happen to you, but you knew what to do. I didn't really know what you needed me for." 

 

"And then, at some point, I stopped feeling like I had to take care of you, and started just...wanting to." Keith glances down at the hand that sits in his lap, the one that is holding Lance’s, and smiles. 

 

"I wanted to make sure you were safe, wanted to make sure you were happy. It was like, it didn't matter what the world thought, or if I was a good person, because you were there."

 

"So, I'm quitting being a caretaker." 

 

Lance’s eyes widen, "But--"

 

Keith smiles again, squeezing Lance's hand, "Lance, I like you. And I want to be here for you. As a friend, if that's how you want it. But, I don't want to be a caretaker anymore. I think I decided that a long time ago." 

 

"Oh,"

 

"Yeah," Keith hums, "So, I'm here for you. Because I want to be. Because I think you are amazing. Not because I think that somehow being here will make Shiro proud or make me feel less guilty." 

 

"Oh," A smile slowly makes it way across Lance's face and it settles Keith’s nerves.

 

"Yeah, so, um," Keith clears his throat, "I'm sorry for kissing you and then not saying anything and then leaving."

 

Lance snorts, "I did tell you to leave."

 

"That is true," Keith hums. Their hands are still intertwine, and Keith finds the warmth of Lance's hand comforting. A comfortable silence falls between them before Lance speaks again. 

 

"Keith?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

Lance raises a hand slowly, finding Keith's cheek, and letting his hand rest there. He moves his thumb over, finding Keith's lips.

 

"I like you, too."  

 

Keith lets out a breath of relief, one he didn't know he was holding. 

 

"Can I kiss you?" Keith asks, because he isn’t sure how much longer he stare at pink lips without feeling the urge to put his own on them.

 

"You don't have to ask," Lance grins, lopsided and bright, and Keith's heart soars.

 

Keith places both his hands on the side of Lance's face. Lance's own hands fall to pull at Keith's hair, and Keith is leaning in when suddenly Lance is laughing.

 

"What?"

 

"You--" Lance is wheezing and Keith would he worried if it weren't for the grin on his face.

 

"You have a mullet!"

 

Keith groans, pinching Lance's nose, "I do not!"

 

Lance chuckles, running fingers through Keith's hair slowly, "I thought you did but I didn’t wanna say anything, but yeah, you totally do, and it's kinda hot, to be honest. Even if it’s not the eighties."

 

Keith snorts, grateful Lance can't see the blush on his cheeks.

 

"Whatever you say, Lance."

 

Lance smiles, one hand continuing to play with the strands of Keith's hair, the other slowly moving to Keith's face. Keith doesn't say anything as Lance's thumb grazes his cheek before sliding over the slope of his nose. Keith closes his eyes and Lance runs a finger over his eyelids, humming at the feeling of soft eyelashes. He continues touching, using a finger to trace Keith's jawline, and then coming to a stop at his chin. The hand that was in his hair falls to his ear, and Keith accidentally lets out a giggle at the ticklish feeling of Lance rubbing the skin of the top of his ear. 

 

Lance grins, continuing to tickle Keith's ear, and running the thumb of his other hand over Keith's lips. He hums at the chapped skin beneath his finger, pulling at it slightly.

 

"I bet you're beautiful," Lance murmurs, almost sadly. 

 

Keith breathes against the finger on his lips, and Lance shivers. 

 

"I'm going to memorize everything," Lance states, his hand falling from Keith's mouth to his collarbones. His index finger traces them, before trailing back up his neck, and then resting on his jaw. 

 

Keith stares at Lance, and thinks it's completely unfair how the early evening sun makes him glow like some sort of God.

 

"Just kiss me already."

 

Lance finds Keith's lips with his finger and grins, "Alright." 

 

Lance leans in, placing his lips on Keith's. Keith can feel the smile on Lance's cheeks, and he commits every single groove to memory.

 

Keith places his hands on Lance's waist, tugging him into his lap. Lance laughs at Keith's eagerness, but doesn't even hesitate to wrap his legs around Keith's waist.

 

(Keith can feel Lance's laugh in his own chest and it makes him feel like he can fly.)

 

When they pull apart, Lance's lip are red, and his cheeks are flushed. Keith sighs, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Lance's chest.

 

"Keith?" Lance asks at the movement. 

 

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Keith asks, tilting his head up so he can plant a kiss on Lance’s collarbones. 

 

Lance snorts at the question, wrapping his arms around Keith.

 

"Only if you move in, as my boyfriend."

 

"I think I can manage that." Keith states, nodding against Lance's chest.

 

"Then it's settled." Lance grins, pulling Keith in close. Strands of hair tickle his chin, and Lance decides he likes the way Keith fits in his arms. 

 

Lance is about to lean back so he can plant another kiss on Keith when he suddenly remembers something. 

 

"Is Hunk still waiting outside?"

 

"Fuck!"

 

Lance laughs and reluctantly slides off Keith's lap. Keith grunts, still holding onto Lance's hand. Lance raises it to his lips and gives it a quick kiss before nudging Keith.  

 

Keith feels his entire face heat up as he stands. He clears his throat, lifting his hand to stare at the knuckles Lance had just kissed.

 

"Hey, Lance?"

 

"Yeah, Keef?"

 

Keith gazes at him, the swoop of his hair, the dimples on his cheeks, and his heart swells. He leans down, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

 

"I love you." 

 

Lance turns bright red, but his grin grows. 

 

"I love you, too, even if you have a mullet." 

 

Keith snorts, flicking Lance in the arm before turning to go out and get Hunk, "Not a mullet." 

 

"Totally a mullet!" Lance shouts after him. 

 

Keith shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he walks to the door. The patch of skin on his hand that Lance kissed tingles pleasantly. 

 

When Keith thinks of Lance--of wide smiles and dimples, and of sun kissed freckles and blue eyes--his heart and chest feel lighter. 

With Lance by his side, Keith feels like he could be invincible. 

  
  
  


///

 

_ Tell me not to trip or to lose sight. _

_ You are walking in my guided light. _

_ Take my hand and help me not to shake. _

_ Say I'm alright, I'm alright. _

_ Say I'm alright, I'm alright. _

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading <3  
> (song at end is we are fine by sharon van etten)  
> come talk to me @ <http://starbunpng.tumblr.com>


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